#the moment a politician is making any person out to be a weapon they can fire at will; you know you have the wrong people for that oversigh

[blindtaleteller]

tags. cause all that and I'm too lazy tonight to pull it over? lol

following the theory that loki intentionally banded the avengers together so he could sicc them on thanos later, after he took the throne in T:TDW, i think he'd be so angry at the events of civil war like:

loki as odin: hello heimdall, how do earth's mightiest heroes fare as of late?

heimdall: they have disagreed on many subjects and split up two days ago

loki:

heimdall:

loki: they haVE WHAT?

cue loki coming down to earth and bonking everyone's heads together until they all get along again

stark: how the heck are you alive???

loki: skills. listen here, i did not pour my blood, sweat and tears to form this team for you idiots to throw all my hard work out the window!

loki, grabbing rhodes and stark by the wrists: now, we are going to get your little friends out of prison, understood?

like an exasperated kindergarten teacher, y'know?

Loki, hitting Steve over the head with a newspaper: he's your friend, of course he's upset you lied to him about something like this

Tony: hah!

Loki, giving Tony a death glare: did you have to fight each other about it

[drdemonprince]

okay as someone who is critical of performative activism can you explain to me how protesting isn't performative? not tring to 'gotcha' you, i just really don't get how standing holding signs in seattle impacts what's happening overseas. the 'block the boat' protest made sense to me bc they were stopping weapons sent to israel, and it makes sense when like laborers damage equipment as part of a work stoppage bc they're wasting the bosses money. but most protests seem to be about 'showing solidarity' and i feel like usually they're more for the benefit of the protestors and to make them feel good for getting involved even if the involvement doesn't directly affect the outcome of whatever they're protesting. i'm open to being wrong about that though?

I used to feel this way, anon. And then I saw Palestinian men full on crying at protests while Facetiming their relatives overseas to show them that people actually cared. And I saw young Palestinian kids walking in front of their parents, moms, dads, aunts, and uncles, leading the chants of thousands of people, filled with confidence, not afraid to name their home land and give a voice to their resistance. And I saw elderly Muslim people, people who have likely not attended many American protests before of this size, emboldened and waving Palestinian flags and recognizing old family friends in the crowd and embracing one another. And I saw the highway be stopped for hours by thousands of us, forcing the entire city's road system to be rerouted, forcing untold numbers to contend with the rage that is being felt. And I saw us shut down all Black Friday shopping on the north end of Michigan avenue, closing off Victoria's Secret (which has manufacturing plants on Palestinian land), and covering the largest Starbucks in the Midwest (an informal boycott Target) with dozens of pro-Palestinian banners and stickers. And I've seen us showing up for one another again and again and again, every weekend, blocking off boycotted stores, ending business as usual, disrupting traffic, exhausting the police (who have had to pull a lot of overtime to deal with us), drawing attention to the cause, ending politicians' fundraising and meet & greet events, and not allowing business to go on as usual our ourselves to be complicit any longer.

I get the jadedness. I do. I have been there, especially after seeing awful police violence against protestors in 2020 and then seeing very little legal change occur. But the meaningful change we need will not occur via legal avenues. Protest is a means of building up collective power, of training people to think more collectively, of helping to normalize the viewpoints that we are advocating for, of disrupting regular everyday activities such as shopping and work that distract people from what is happening, of wearing the police state, of making our political representatives fearful and tired, and of setting the stage for larger, bolder, more disruptive direct actions that prevent or end humanitarian crises.

Block the boat doesn't just happen out of nowhere. You have to have a dedicated team of organizers and hundreds to thousands of devoted activists, medics, legal observers, coordinators, and people on the side lines offering resources and food. You need people to feel uplifted, motivated, and confident. You don't just get that in one day. The west coast has been able to launch incredibly effective actions like these because their work is YEARS in the making. Every major protest, every autonomous zone, every organizing meeting, it has all led to this. It takes work. It takes people being willing to show up and do that work, regularly, even when it is not glamorous, even when they do not get a sticker for it, and even when they cannot always walk away feeling that they've done something personally in that moment. It is a collective, long term endeavor, and it requires toughness and commitment.

Besides, the protests we are talking about actually are direct actions. Protestors yesterday shut down Zara. And now the company has to contend with a lot of bad PR from thousands of us screaming outside Zara's flagship store in the Chicago, speaking out about its advertisements mocking the Palestinian people. Shutting down the highway multiple times and other boycotted stores and ruining political fundraisers is directly impactful too. Now if any protestors want to take it further than that, I welcome them and I'll be there to join them. The Black & Indigenous solidarity rally in 2020 was one really impactful example. It came to blows in a serious way, but we almost tore the Columbus statue down. The city was so afraid of another incident they took the statue down themselves.

This is how we get things done. We show up, in large numbers, we give comfort and steadfast support to those most targeted, we show the state our true numbers, we wake other people up from their slumber, and we keep pushing to do more. We need as many people on the line as possible. The presence of every single person at a protest is powerfully felt. Numbers gives us confidence, it literally keeps us warmer in the cold in a noticeable way, it shows Palestinian people that we are with them, it broadcasts a message on the world stage, and it makes it possible for things like flipping over police cars and starting fires and closing bomb manufacturers possible.

[theexaltedbride]

Dead Island 2 Slayers x Reader Headcanons (Part Three!)

(Still having a fun time, and people wanted more, so here you go! Have fun and happy Slaying!)

Amy:

-Amy has a competitive streak to her that tends to leave her very huffy whenever she loses at anything. But all it takes is a couple of kisses from you on her neck, cheek, or lips to brighten her back up. To the point the others joke about deploying you as a secret weapon whenever Amy gets actually angry about something.

-Sometimes she just likes to be held by you in the shower when you are both easing down and soothing your muscles from a long day of slaying monsters.

-It took some doing, but you managed to get Amy talking more about her personal life, and focusing on things besides winning the Paralympics, she actually works as a part time as a teacher for children with special needs, and has several fun stories, including how she met the actress for Space Fox 2250, and only really knew her because one of the kids in her 6th Grade class had an SF:2250 lunchbox with the actress on it. She misses her kids, and hopes they are okay. But you reassure her that they are, and to just keep thinking about the good times, because when you all make it through this, they are going to want to see their favorite teacher.

-Amy has mentioned offhandedly that she enjoys going shopping from time to time, not so much because she likes to buy things, but because she loves the experience of not knowing what you might find at a brick and mortar store. It just feels good getting to move around and see other people going about their day. So one time you cleared out a section of a mall of some zombies, and told Amy it was going to be a shopping day, just you and her. While you can’t bring in other people to walk around, you can at least give her part of that experience again.

-Hates having to clean zombie splatter out of her hair buns, but refuses to wear a hat or hairnet to stop it from happening, no matter how many times you suggest it to her. If you didn’t know any better you’d think that she was doing it so you would always be on hand to help her wash her hair.

Bruno:

-His old life as a hustler helps him to sometimes haggle other survivor groups out of some goods and services, but he also uses it to get things he knows you would like and plays it off as just being part of the deal.

-Bruno hated corruption back in the day, and some of his hustles were meant to expose that. If you offer to help him get some dirt on shitty politicians and other rich people who abandoned all the civilians to die in Hell-A, then he will never forget it.

-He might have ‘borrowed’ some leftover filming equipment from Monarch studios to start recording the best moments between you and him in high definition. He wants to be able to remember your smile in perfect clarity and better quality than just his phone.

-He gets all fussy when he loses his beanie and you can see that his hair is actually a total mess. He wears the beanie to cover up a ruined patch of hair that he had to shave off early in the outbreak when a zombie grabbed some of his dreadlocks and pulled hard enough to rip some hair out. But you assure him he would look good regardless of how he has his hair, or even no hair at all. He’s the one making the style look good, not the other way around.

-Bruno isn’t always the best about sharing his emotions and feelings, but you’ve started to pick up a general vibe that he gets a smart mouth when he’s upset, angry, or annoyed. He’s constantly in this mode when dealing with Rikky, and you tend to tag in when Bruno gets like this so that the group doesn’t start anything with other survivors.

Carla:

-She absolutely hates anything creepy or crawly, be it regular insects or infected who are covered in bugs. So she hung close to you when the group had to clear out the Monarch Studios set for the Rise of the God Spider, since tons of actual spiders were crawling across the floor and spreading real web everywhere. 

-Loves when you bring her any nice looking bikes scavenged from the city, even if she needs to fix them. She was a mechanic before and so is always working on something to stave off boredom. You bringing her things to fix (especially if they go fast) really puts a smile on her face. 

-Carla is as tough as they come. She’s made her peace with the idea of dying at the hands of the infected, but she can’t stand the idea of losing you. The thought of living in a world without you, after having finally found you haunts her nightmares. You know she’s had one of those nightmares when the following day she seems to constantly be checking up on you and making sure she knows you’re there and not hurt.

-She tends to lose her earrings in the middle of more intense fights, especially when forced to fist fight with Crushers, so she really appreciates it when you pick up her earrings again or find new ones to replace them.

-If you ask very nicely, Carla might decide to bench press you in the gym, lifting you up like you weigh nothing.

Dani:

-Always wants to hear about your family and what they were like, especially any happy and fun memories you have, because she does not have a good relationship with her own family. Maybe she will tell you the full story someday. 

-If you let her, she can absolutely cut and style your hair. Though be prepared for her to experiment with it to see what works best for you, results may vary wildly. 

-At first you might have found Dani’s constant swearing off putting, but after a while it grew on you and you’ve started to swear casually just like her. She finds it cute but states you will never be able to swear to the same level as her.

-Sometimes she can get very sassy with you, but as time goes on you’ve learned to differentiate her playful sassiness with her being actually angry, annoyed, or teasing.

-Dani won’t admit it, but she loved that you brought her a whole pack of her favorite lipstick. It took some work to find it, but it was worth it, and Dani makes sure to test it out on you frequently by leaving lipstick imprint on your mouth for all to see.

Jacob:

-His time as a Stuntman has helped him survive getting hit by tougher infected as he just relaxes his body and takes the hit, the first time you saw this it shocked you and you thought Jacob had been seriously injured, you only calmed down after seeing him get back up, but that reaction told Jacob you had genuine feelings for him.

-Jacob invited you to a late night party with Rikky and Roxanne. You honestly can’t remember what happened, you partied way too hard and woke up with Jacob on several pink flamingo floaties all taped together, on the roof of Rikky and Roxanne’s place. 

-When Jacob found out that there were still chefs surviving at the Blue Crab over on Venice Beach, he went the extra mile to help secure it and bring them supplies so that they could prepare something nice for you and the others (but mostly so you and Jacob could have a date night together and pretend things were back to normal). 

-If you are open to smoking with Jacob, he will start you off small and get you used to it (and only the best brands he can scavenge) before you two will be smoking like pros. Given the state of things you might not even live long enough to get lung cancer, or might be immune to it thanks to being a Numen. Either way, Jacob wants you to live it up with him.

-You might have gotten a contact high from Trent’s special blend, but to Jacob its weaksauce, though he does keep some of it handy in case you would like to smoke some, and will keep an eye on you so that you don’t get into any trouble or get hurt with your initial high.

Ryan:

-Ryan absolutely has his Himbo moments, but he’s not as dumb as others might think. He’s better at coming up with quick plans on the fly rather than long projects, so you pick up the slack for him in that regard.

-When you sleep together, Ryan tends to roll over on top of you protectively and you’ve come to appreciate the feeling of him on top of you, almost like a big warm, weighted blanket.

-Ryan actually hates needles and tends to flinch each time he needs to use an autoinjector, needs stitches from an injury, or has to help Dr. Reed with his vaccine stuff. But if you can distract him by holding his hand or keeping his attention things will go much easier.

-Ryan loved seeing the giant spider animatronic over at Monarch Studios because he’s actually a big fan of giant monster movies. So if you happen to surprise him with some while out scavenging its gonna be a fun night of seeing your man geeking out over his hyperfixation.

-Ryan is actually very particular about how he has his coffee made and would rather go to the nearest coffee shop and fix it himself than let someone else do it wrong. The only exception to that rule is when you are the one making the coffee for him. When you do it its always perfect, because its made with love.

All Purpose Headcanons:

-When your lover was thrown into that pit in the sewers by the Eschaton group, full of infected which forced them to go berserk, you jumped in after them without a moment’s hesitation. Your Slayer Lover was rabid, wild, tearing apart infected with their bare hands. For a moment it looked like they might do the same to you, but when their eyes stared into your own, they recognized you, and it started to calm them down, bringing them back to normality.

-Luciana set up some scavenged videogame consoles down in the game room. Your Slayer lover always likes to have you as their player 2 and sits right next to you as you play. 

-Curtis likes to hang out there too and while he doesn’t play any games (hands have far too much arthritis and games move too fast for him) he’s grown to enjoy watching the others play them and watching the stories sometimes or even talking about them. During Tabletop RPG nights in the gameroom, he also likes to sit nearby and watch, while commenting on how to properly roll dice like he did back in his younger days as a star when he went to Vegas, or adding random bits of commentary.

-Amanda has been trying to set up a better internet connection in the living room so that she can upload her videos. She’s had no luck so far, but she’s also shown her softer side by asking everyone to write an email to someone they care for on the outside, and saving it on her tablet, so that if she does get a signal, she can send it out as soon as possible before they lose the signal again.

-Everytime you have to go into the sewers you end up needing like a three hour bath to scrub yourself clean, but your lover is always there to help you out, even if they too smell bad from being in the sewers with you.

-Emma doesn’t like it, but you all love using her jacuzzi in the back of the mansion. You all just sit back, take in the sun, relax in the water, and ignore the sound of the Zeds outside. Nothing like taking a break with some good friends.

[bruggle]

Hi

So I know I haven't been working on my main fic.

And I'm sorry. My brain is bad.

But I assure you, it's still on my mind.

Sooooo

Here's this in the meantime

Humans, X has found, are frustrating.

Granted, he's known this from the beginning. He's wrangled with too many politicians trying to talk in circles in order to avoid discussing reploid rights to think otherwise. But this? Brook? Was so much more personal. She's not all bad, of course. Unlike the politicians, none of her frustrating parts are born out of malice for what he is.

Just who he is.

Because she never wanted to come home with him. (And he gets it. He really does.) But she couldn't stay there. X was not going to let her risk being dragged into the Guild; to continue fighting in a war she was far too young for. Heck, he doesn't want her in the war at all. Which is why he pushes so many other hobbies and career paths at her.

Too bad it doesn't work.

Brook refuses all of it.

She won't even try most times. Just say she doesn't have any interest in it, or she she isn't smart enough for it, or something else of that nature. It's often the source of their arguments. X will suggest something, Brook will vehemently deny it, ask why she can't just go shooting with Axl, and...

It escalates.

Every time.

He wonders if he's doing something wrong.

Add in her horrendous mood swings, and that's even worse. X used to think human males were exaggerating just how bad females were during... menstruation. But he has long since learned that they are, in fact, not. Brook is a terror during hers. Not that... he can blame her, exactly. She's had to deal with things a child her age never should have to.

The loss of her parents.

Abuse.

Abandonment.

Starvation.

Not to mention the fact that she ran away to be a mercenary for five months.

It's taken a massive toll on her body. Which, in turn, makes her mood swings worse. So X does his best to weather her storms. She assumes he's going to be exactly like what every other foster parent has been. Giving up on her. Returning her to the orphanage.

He is determined not to be.

Besides, it isn't all bad. Brook has her good moments. And they by far outshine the frustrating parts. X has never once regretted taking her in for Tern. Even with all the arguments.

Which... brings him to today...

"And why the hell not?" Brook exclaimed. X does his best to hold back a sigh. It's the same argument they always have. "Because, Brook, you don't need to be around any more weapons," he explained. "You've been around too many as it is. I'm glad you and Axl get along so well, but you're not going shooting with him." Brook glowers at him. "Okay, but why not?" she seethed. "Have you ever considered that maybe I enjoy it?"

"I'm aware that you do," X assured her. "But it's still not good for you. Not right now." The ruddy haired girl sneers at him. "You're just hoping I get too rusty," Brook accused. "That way, I can't join the Guild when I turn eighteen! That's not your choice, X!" The blue clad reploid can't help but wince. She's... kind of right on the money. He wants her to try other things. Anything other than shooting. Joining the Guild would just... end in her death. One way or another.

Humans are resilient and scrappy.

But they're still so fragile compared to reploids. Douglas made that breakthrough in buster technology so that humans could defend themselves. Not join the war. Although, nobody was all that surprised. He knows a lot of the grievances between the races were due to the forced reliance on reploids. It chaffed on a good number of humans. Especially those in the Western hemisphere, who were so much more independent. With the introduction of free roam busters, as they were called, many of those were put to rest; and the two races were getting closer. It... still wasn't where X would love to see it, but...

It's closer.

"Brook, there is so much more to life than the Guild," said X. "I just want you to try all other avenues before you're eighteen, okay?" The teen scoffs and glares at him. "You think I don't know that?"

"Well, you certainly act as if you don't," he snapped.

X internally winces. He shouldn't have said that. Not... not like that. She's just... so stubborn! And acts like she's not good enough for anything but the Guild! He's trying so hard to change that for her. X knows he's being pushy about it, but... can you blame him? Brook has so much potential. She shouldn't be wasting it in a war.

But Brook looks outraged by that. "What do you want me to act like, then?" she demands.

"I don't want you to act like anything," X tiredly amends. "I just want you to try. Something. Anything. Please." But the ruddy haired teen is already too worked up. He knows better than this. Knows better than to point out her inadequacies. That's... all her former foster parents often did. Not out of malice, but... Brook often overheard them when she was being returned to the orphanage she was staying at.

Why does he keep messing up?

Fatherhood was a lot more difficult than he thought.

X watches after Brook as she stomps off to her room. He's not going to try to fix it. Not right now. Let her cool off, and then he'll speak with her. But for now, there's some work that needs to be done. All the dishes and such are done. X has thankfully found that he doesn't need to get onto her about that, given that she is usually pretty conscientious about the messes she makes. Brook had been out in the wilderness for five months, after all. Kept a very tidy and thoughtful camp.

No, it's his own work for Neo Arcadia that needs to be done.

So he sits down and gets on it.

That is until a notification pops up.

Curious, X opens it and is immediately displeased by what he finds. It's the cellular service that he set up for Brook, and they're informing him that she has just made a long-distance call. She knows she's supposed to ask for that. That was one of the first things he layed down when he got the holophone for her. Not because he's nosy, but so that he can warn them. It's cheaper that way. Not that he necessarily has to watch his spending habits. It's just good practice. Brook is usually pretty good about it, but...

Maybe she's just using it as revenge.

That would need to be nipped in the bud.

So X sighs as he saves the documents on his computer and gets up from his desk. It's one thing to have an argument. Another thing entirely to act out like this. He wracks his brain for a suitable punishment as he makes his way to her room.

Only to pause as he gets closer.

He can hear Brook sobbing. And not the way she normally does. This is... gut wrenching. X slows his pace as he makes his way closer. Yeah, that's... whatever happened on the phone, it wasn't good. The blue clad reploid quietly opens the door, and what he sees just breaks his core.

Brook is curled up on the floor in a ball, her holophone laying on the bed. "Brook...?" X gently calls, only to get a louder sob in response.

Rust.

X carefully makes his way closer to her, watching every bit of her body language. If she tells him to stop, he has to. He wants to gain her full trust, so he has to. He's already steamrolled over so many of her wishes just by taking her in and out of America. But she doesn't. As he gets closer, she just curls tighter into a ball and cries. So, he sits down next to her, making himself as small as possible. He needs to figure out exactly what happened before he goes any further.

"Brook, who did you call?" X asked gently. "And why?" He's not mad that she made an international call, per se. Just... mad that she didn't warn him, at least. Of course, she'd have people she'd want to call in America. That's... where she was born. Raised. Even if she disappeared off the face of the Earth for five months, she'd still have friends she'd want to talk to.

But... the way that she's crying, he doesn't think she called a friend.

Brook shakes her head, burying her face further into her arms. X inwardly sighs; nothing about this girl is easy. Why would it be? "I'm not mad," X assures her. "Just... worried. Something upset you. A lot. I just want to know who and why."

"Why do you care?" comes the muffled reply from the sixteen year old girl.

"I care because you're very obviously upset," X tells her. "And I'd like to help. You know that." Brook doesn't answer him for a minute, seemingly debating on if she wants to tell him or not. That's fine. X knows they're still in a... rocky patch. He's struggling to figure out how to deal with her mood swings. Brook is struggling with boundaries after so long of not having any. He can wait. But finally, after an especially loud sniffle, Brook lifts her head from her arms and studies him. X feels his core break at her expression. He's not... used to such a heartbroken look on the ruddy haired girl's face. "What happened?" X softly coaxes. And that...

Brook's face screws up as more tears fall from her eyes. "I- I called my aunt," she admits, causing X to blink in surprise. Her... aunt? But... "Brook, why did you call her?" he asks. That... didn't make any sense. Brook's aunt treated her horribly. And the teen had stated loudly in the past that she wanted nothing to do with the woman. So why...?

"...She sounds like Mom," Brook sobs.

...Ah.

That... made sense. In the worst way possible. Brook's dealing with homesickness. A lot of change. And two years was barely any time at all. Especially considering that Brook has barely had any time to actually grieve.

Of course she'd want her mother.

And it occurs to X that Brook really doesn't have anything to remind her of her parents. It was all lost when her aunt gave up custody. Frustratingly so. Why the state decided that, just because Brook is a minor, X doesn't understand. But, he also supposes that storage takes money. Money a minor wouldn't have.

No wonder she would turn to her last remaining family member. Even if the woman was... that.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, X slowly wraps an arm around Brook. He's not sure if she will accept his comfort or not, but... he has to try. When the ruddy haired teen doesn't push him away or yell, X gently pulls her closer to him. And is promptly surprised when Brook throws her arms around him, crying into his chest.

X doesn't let the surprise last long; instead, wrapping his arms firmly around her and pulling the teen close. He whispers reassurances to the top of her head as she bawls against him. The reploid doesn't know what Brook's aunt said to her, but he does know it likely wasn't pleasant. Not with the way the poor girl's reacting. He'd love nothing more than to have the woman in front of him so he can give her a peace of his mind.

...But that was neither here, nor there.

And he's far more worried about making sure Brook is okay.

Humans were frustrating, X has found. But they have their reasons to be.

[colorfullcast]

KHR! N-> Dictionary

[DISCLAIMER! This section is very spoiler heavy, so read at your own risk]

The Nuvella Famiglia

The Nuvella Famiglia is a mafia family almost as old as the Vongola itself with now 8 generations going. It is known for being a very secretive family with not much public presence, however a lot of connections in the dark. They are known for never rushing any of their movements and rather waiting out the right moment than making any compromises on their plans. They have been openly and vocally opposing the Vongola since their first generation, as the family was founded by a former Vongola heir, Vongola Terzos younger brother who opposed his ideals and decided to build his own family. This is why the family has the same 1 Boss 6 Guardians structure.

There are many rumors and legends about the Nuvella, one for example, that they were responsible for the assassination of Vongola Sesto, however it could never be confirmed, but definitely hightened the tension between the two families. However it has never come to an open violent altercation on a family wide level, though many individuals have clashed with each other.

It is also said that they have ties to "the Serpents", an underground organisation, that deals in the dirtiest and most heinous of crimes, even being responsible for toppling politicians in other countries.

Eight Generation

Vero Nemesi (Boss - Sky)

Vero Nemesi is the eight Boss of the Nuvella family, being the oldest of two children of the former seventh boss Francesca. He is known for being rather cunning tho it is unclear which exact crimes can be attributed to him, due to the Nuvellas secrecy. However he is responsible for many attacks and leaks regarding the Neo Vongola transfer to japan and has weirdly enough not made any attempt to hide this.

He seems to have a particular dislike of Tsunayoshi Sawada and Vongola Nono, blaming his mothers death on Timoteo and his guardians.

Possible and confirmed involvement

The sudden spike of Vongola Nonos Dementia (unconfirmed)

The attack of a Bat Amalgamation Monster on the Varias Squad 4 (confirmed)

Leaking information regarding Tsunayoshi Sawada transfering the Neo Vongola to japan (confirmed)

Financing the build of the Mosca models (unconfirmed)

Leaking information about Vongola whereabouts in the Future (partially confirmed)

Leaking Ekaterina Bugakovas assassination to Anatoli Bugakov (confirmed)

Leaking Basils whereabouts to the Varia during the Ringbattle Arc (unconfirmed)

Cho Nemesi (Information Networker - Cloud Guardian )

Cho Nemesi is Vero Nemesis younger brother and the eight generations Cloud Guardian. He is the head of the Nuvella Information Network, the probably biggest strength and weapon of the Family. He is very loyal to his older brother and works close with their Tech Specialist Beanie. He overlooks the information that they gather and then presents them to his brother who then decides what to leak to whom and if to possibly even sell information. The Vindice has been keeping a close eye on him as he has shown interest in gathering information from the "Atlantis" Bar which has been the secret information pool of the Vindice.

Carmen Serpine (direct comand assassine - Sun Guardian)

Carmen Serpine is the Nuvella eight generation Sun Guardian and the older sister of Mayar Serpine, the boss of the Serpents. She has been the Nuvellas assassine since the former generation, but only under Vero has she been made a Guardian and given a more stable ring for her flame. Under the former Boss Francesca she has been responsible for multiple deaths among the Varia and specifically the eye impairment of Zarria Albo whos left eye she ripped out of her skull. She sees Zarria as her personal enemy; why is unclear, but she has been going for her specifically.

Valencia (Lightning Guardian)

Valencia di Loma is the eight generation Lightning Guardian of the Nuvella Family. It's said that in her past she was part of a church based in rural south italy, where she was raised in believing the divinity of gods punishment. Believing that her boss Vero is a messenger of the Lord himself she has seen every of his orders as a direct command from God itself, following each command no matter how deranged or evil it may be.

Maribella (Mist Guardian)

Maribella is the Nuvella eight generation Mist guardian and regarded an academic genius. She constructs her illusions from the ground up, using her knowledge to make them as realistic as possible, so any attempt at deconstructing them or find fault in them would be unimaginably difficult. She puts rational thought above feelings, which has led to her following Vero as she believes his ideologies to be the ones with the best outcome for italy.

James (Storm Guardian)

James is the Nuvella Famiglia eight generation Storm Guardian and shrouded in mystery even for the Nuvella. Nobody knows where he came from or what his deal is, but he has proven himself to Vero and became his storm guardian. He is truly just here to fuck shit up and have a good time, ready to mess up others for shits and giggles. It's said that he might've been a convicted criminal from another country and it's rather obvious that James is not his real name, however this is mostly irrelevant as neither James nor Vero disclose any information about his background.

Hermeas (Rain Guardian)

Hermeas is the Rain Guardian of the eight generation of the Nuvella Family and an old friend of the Nemesi family. He has been a sort of uncle to both Vero and Cho, ever since they were born and has been incredibly protective of them. He was also the one who first suspected Vongola Nono to be responsible for Francescas death and is still guilt ridden for not being able to protect her when she needed him. This is why he swore to protect her two kids and became the eight generations Rain Guardian, on top of being their bodyguard and closest family member. He disliked Tyr, but always saw Carmens obsessiveness with Tyrs executioner as completely overdrawn.

Beanie (Technic Specialist)

Beanie is the Nuvella families specialist for anything involving technology and internet. He works closely with Cho and has been the one to perform most of the hacking operations for information. He is as much a staple of the Information Network as Cho is.

Mayar Serpine (Boss of "The Serpents" - Mist flame)

Mayar Serpine is the current Boss of the Serpents, an underground organisation that deals in illegal activity in and outside of italy, mostly involved in blackmail, extortion and political plays. The Serpents work closely with the Nuvella for a while now andd Mayar himself has shown to be impressed by the way Vero leads the eight generation. He is Carmen Serpines younger sibling and a formidable illusionist who uses mostly mindgames and psychology to trick his opponents into an opening. He has been opposed to the way the Vongola has been operating for a while, the entire organisation having always been a more opposing force to them than an ally or just neutral party. It's said that the founder of the Serpents even had contact with Giotto Vongola and back then had already been unhappy about the way Giotto led his organisation. Right now he provides the Nuvella with financial and resource aid while playing a big part in the current political landscape of west russia and nort italy.

[schrodingersauthorii]

I have a Horrible Exorcists Miraculous Ladybug fusion. It goes something like this:

Natori Shuuichi and Matoba Seji are the ladybug and black cat, respectively. Nothing about them has changed. They are both adult exorcists with their same jobs, now they just have to deal with akuma too.

They were the absolute last choice for Miraculous holders. Natori found Tikki after she was lost for decades right as akuma reemerged. Matoba got roped into it because of their fucked up narrative foil relationship, which is close enough to partnership for kwami magic. Absolutely no one is happy, but good luck finding physically capable, intelligent, mentally stable, AND morally upright soul mates in this economy. They don’t want to take over the world, and have the right reflexes and strategic thinking from exorcisms. That’s going to have to be good enough.

Plagg outright refuses to tell Matoba how to use the Black Cat’s powers. He accidentally kills an akuma possessed person anyways. (PTSD+ claws + chokehold = big oops.) Natori is the only person who knows, since Miraculous Cure brought them back and there weren’t any other witnesses.

This is a character defining moment for the both of them. Exorcism is ROUGH. Murder is never far off the table, apparently, and they’ve got enough baggage for a regional airport. Which they feel compelled to somehow explain to their fated partner stranger coworker after a workplace accident like THAT.

And they sound like they’re on the same page without all the surrounding context: they’re both traumatized in ways that interfere with their lives and relationships, both believe that they have a duty to protect others, and that sometimes the ends justify the means. But narrative foils gonna foil, and WE know how differently those traits and values actually play out.

Their weapons are a calligraphy brush and an oil paper umbrella. They have absolutely no suspicions about each other’s identity. They’re barely hanging on by virtue of the Maneki Neko Miraculous holder, an idealistic teenager they’d immediately sideline if they weren’t dependent on barely sub lethal levels of caffeine and his Beckon Health ability. (Yes, this is Natsume.)

Matoba’s identity is the first casualty. He simply runs out of time and de-transforms, fortunately only in front of his teammates. Natsume and Natori are outraged, but more sympathetic than they might would have been before the Miraculouses.

They don’t LIKE him, they’re bonded by trauma and fate, okay?

Next, Natori gets caught transforming on camera. He doesn’t end up, like, in jail or anything. If anything, the government is TOO accommodating. But his exorcist and acting career are definitely on indefinite pause. And smoozing with politicians sucks.

Natsume gets straight up kidnapped when his identity is compromised. He can beckon luck, wealth, customers, health, romance or even academic success (as different colored maneki neko) but even the evil banishing black maneki neko isn’t useful in combat against a human. Not an akuma, not the butterfly Miraculous holder, just some dude. Oi. He gets rescued, of course.

The fic ends when Natori and Matoba defeat and kill the butterfly holder- surprise! Another exorcist. Possibly Ban or Matoba’s sister, possibly an OC depending on how the manga progresses. The death is ruled an accident, as it happens after Miraculous Cure is used. Exorcists miraculously remain below the public radar, and quickly vote to make using a Miraculous an executable taboo. (Not retroactively applied.)

Natori and Matoba GLADLY surrender their Miraculouses, and give the Guardian several industrial strength wards for the box. Things go back to normal, but with everyone’s brains slightly but fundamentally altered by the experience. Everyone, everyone: magic and the occult are mainstream now, and exorcism picking up again. With all the good and bad that entails.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Brigitte Empire! She's just done a big move to escape TERF Island, and YT (and associated donations) are her only source of income right now. Listen, like, and reply to her video (you don't have to read the YT comments - though most aren't too bad - just say "hi") to help her out with the algorithm, and give money if you can.

And, while I have your attention, how DOES one differentiate between a nice, civil protest and a lawbreaking riot?

Well, is "one" an ordinary human being without a badge - press or police/security?

Like these BLM folks right here?

...Then your input is not required. Sorry. You don't actually get to define whether you're here to be heard or to break shit and ruin it for everyone. You have no authority over your message, and we do not believe you when you express your intent, especially if there's any (I mean ANY) property damage. Human lives are more important than some light vandalism and broken windows, you say? Well, lalalalala, 'cos we're not listening.

But if "one" does have a badge...

Aha! Behold, a miscreant!

Yes. Take that, you... you building-haters!

...one is allowed, nay, expected to put the proper framework around this chaos of, uh, human beings asking for human rights with their (theoretically) protected right to protest.

And this framework is subject to change!

...like, a lot of change. Within a single human lifetime, MLK goes from commie threat to conservative icon, and the protests he helped organize go from "tut-tut, so uncivil" to a triumph of nonviolent resistance. Gandhi and his tactics have gone through a similar rehabilitation/reclaimation.

And Stonewall? It's gone from a riot to a protest to a riot, with an ever-evolving cast of heroes, villains, and participants. Brigitte up there steered clear of who was involved and what their motivations may have been, and I suppose I will too, because we're all very attached to our own personal mythology. We all want to have been there, and there's some backlash and othering for people with queer identities that aren't part of the mythos.

I will say, though, that the man-o-sphere-centric film Buck Breaking sure did cough up an interesting interpretation for us. (Don't bother to watch it, I didn't, I just read/listened about it. It seems painful.) To the brain trust behind this propaganda piece, Stonewall was a BLACK riot - with no queer folks involved at all, certainly not any Black queer folks - and we STOLE it from them. I'm not gonna take that apart either, F. D. Signifier already did, and his experiences give him a better viewpoint than mine.

A riot is defined, and fueled by the police reaction in the moment, and afterwards, the media and politicians will carve it up however they see fit. Generally speaking, contemporary sources tend to err on the side of the police, and slowly get more revisionist as time passes. If the cops don't want you where you are, they will come up with a reason to remove you, provoking one if necessary. (See, my earlier post today, responding to efforts to make it more difficult to protest in the States.)

Cops are trained to parse any disturbance (even a bunch of kids singing patriotic music at the Capitol to score cheap points for the Republican House Speaker) as a threat, and they will minimize or remove it. A protest that does not cause a disturbance is not an effective protest. Thus, ANYTHING can be a riot. And, once the cops fire a few chemical weapons into the crowd, it sure will look like one. That's nice for any newspaper photographers who happen to be in the area!

This is why, when I talk about violent protests, I say the violence happens, like a rainy day or a sneeze. Speaking as a bleeding-heart lefty progressive (I don't show up for shit like January 6th), most people aren't looking to hurt anyone, they just want to be heard. If you do look like you're just there to start some shit, or you bring a weapon, someone will take you aside and ask you to go home, or at least leave that shit in the car. People with obvious weapons make a suitable excuse for the police to start some shit of their own - and we'd all rather not be pepper-sprayed or gassed, thanks. But if the cops want you gone, they are able to turn up the pressure until someone snaps, and then they'll start doing damage and making arrests anyway.

The first Pride was a riot, and a protest, and the participants repaid police violence against them with violence against the police. Police do their violence on behalf of the State, so we tend to overlook it, or spread the responsibility around until everyone is a little bit complicit. (We live in a democracy, right? Right?) But the truth is, a riot can be self-defense. It just doesn't look like it in the papers, because systemic oppression doesn't photograph very well.

Nothing about what's happening is "civil." "Civility" is not what anyone is after, here. What they want is silence. Silence just lets them keep doing whatever the hell they were doing, while pretending we're all OK with it. If you raise your voice, they will do whatever they can to shut you down. They lie, they cheat, they wound, and they kill.

Well, you can't make any noise if you're dead. So first, stay alive. And then, if you can, yell your fucking head off. Don't quiet down no matter what label they hit you with. If you're lucky, one day you'll be a triumph of nonviolent resistance too!

[eileentothestars]

[Caption:

Panda: I made the mistake of scrolling through Twitter again, specifically Comic Book Twitter. And, uh... just -- just watch.

(He shows a tweet claiming that comics are not supposed to be political and cites as evidence a clip from Justice League: Unlimited, which he now plays)

Superman: You became a symbol, a symbol that represents all of us.

Captain Marvel: Yes sir.

Superman: We don't play favorites. We don't sell deodorant on television. And we don't get involved in politics.

Panda: So because of that, we're gonna have the "comics are inherently political" talk again. I know. Everybody's tired of hearing it, but apparently some people still need to! What the fuck does this even mean?!

First and foremost, um, has this person seen this episode? This episode ends with Captain Marvel leaving the goddamn Justice League because, and I quote, "they don't act like heroes anymore!"

Also, let's just take a roll call of the people at this table, shall we? We have the Amazonian warrior who is explicitly dressed in the American flag to better international relations, the fucking Thanagarian soldier in the corner, the fucking veteran of the war on Mars, DC's second Black superhero ever, and I have already gone into the fucking people's hero that is Superman.

Also, little bit of a suggestion in media literacy to the person who's posting that. You hear that music? You hear how it feels kind of ominous? That's because it's in a minor key. It's supposed to make you feel off, like what's being said is wrong.

"Comics aren't supposed to be polit" -- Do I need to point at the Captain America #1 cover again? I will pull it out of the goddamn box, I swear!

Comic books and superheroes are absolutely and always have been inherently political. They state political messaging. They say things, like any good art does. The people who continuously say that comics shouldn't be political are just pissed off when their art doesn't reflect their own politics. And if that's the fucking case, don't buy the goddamn book! If I fucking hate the messaging, and I hate the messaging behind it, why the hell would I go out and buy something like Frank Miller's Holy Terror if it's just going to piss me off?!

(He shows a calendar image of Captain American punching Red Skull)

Oh, this? Nothing inherently political about this. It's just somebody draped in the American flag beating the shit out of a Nazi.

(He points at a comic book cover of Iron Man fighting Submariner)

Oh, what's this? Oh, that's nothing, that's just a character inherently stooped in the fact that capitalism is destroying the planet and how the planet is going to rebel against that, fighting an uber-capitalist who thinks he did nothing wrong up until the moment that he's proven wrong when his weapons are used against him. Nothing inherently political about that!

(He points at his Red Hood masks)

Oh, what are these? Oh, these are just the helmets of a formerly disenfranchised youth that was adopted by a vigilante that wages a one-man, extralegal war on crime because his city is too corrupt by the greedy politicians underfunding all of the social programs. Nothing fucking political about that!

Superheroes are political. Comic books are political. Art is political. And the wonderful thing about comics is, even if a character that you like is spouting political messaging that you don't agree with, there is a 900% chance that you can find a version that agrees with you! You want your shitty, badmouthing, America First Captain America that nobody fucking asked for? Go read the Ultimates! It's full of that shit!

But stop acting like creators are mischaracterizing the characters when they make them political. Because newsflash: They didn't make them political. They've always been political. You just weren't fucking listening.

End caption]

Comics have always been political

[leafdebrief]

ruminations on moderate-to-large tasks like saving the world; part ii

"On Villains"

you know what sounds like a big fucking job?

saving the world.

there happens to be something needed so badly right now that almost literally any little action by any person towards that goal might as well be full-on heroism. do you know what it is?

saving the world.

this isn't anime or Spiderman. the enemy is not monologuing to give you time for disarming them. there is no cackling villain with a timebomb at all. the villain is invisible, because it's not a he (but includes many if not mostly he-types) and it's not even a how (but there are a few dangerous ways how that should worry us).

the villains are all in suits and have mansions in Silicon Valley and work in offices with security and have SO so so much money that you will never get to see their faces or even breath their air directly because your air is dirty and their air includes aerosolized blood nutrients from young men they hire scientists to draw blood from to make a lucky billionaire's dream of eternal youth a humble reality.

but that young man won't be you, so don't wait for a meeting.

there's no master switch that needs throwing where the digital clock goes "BZZZT" before the scary looking Bomb blows up with the whole school and the rest of our heroes tied to the playground. there isn't a even singular acute scenario easy to describe in a single metaphor.

if this is Batman, we've got the Twoface, Joker, Scarecrow, and Mr Freeze all teamed up and in control of every death weapon ever created. They've taken over all the city buildings but holed up in the Gotham Gazette building because one of their death weapons is AI-generated images of Gotham's politicians strangling their spouses, and the newspapers will print those images as real news the moment one of the role-shifting villains threatens to blow the building up.

there are no villains like that though. none.

i can name a few. quite a number really. but the weapon they used caused a calamity and soon they'll be calling out for Batman and Superman and Spiderman and all the Men they hoped would save them, but only drowning women will be present because those heroes are not real.

you are.

[denimbex1986]

'Christopher Nolan remembers when he first heard the name Oppenheimer. It was via the lyrics of Sting’s 1985 antiwar hit, “Russians”: “How can I save my little boy from Oppenheimer’s deadly toy?” Like many in his generation, Nolan was already obsessed with the end of the world; he recalls the camps and blockades at Greenham Common in the early 1980s, when thousands of women joined forces to protest the placement of cruise missiles in England, and the growing campaign for nuclear disarmament in Europe. “As impressionable young people, when we were 12 or 13 years old, we were convinced we were going to die in a nuclear holocaust,” Nolan recalls. “I think very much the way kids these days feel about climate change.”

We’ve managed to meet on a day that itself feels cataclysmic. Raging wildfires in Quebec have made their way down the Northeast and shrouded New York in an orange pall of smoke. We’re here to talk about Nolan’s new film, a biopic about J. Robert Oppenheimer, the so-called father of the atomic bomb. “Culture is a bit limited as to how many apocalypses they can worry about at one time, which is a problem because all of these things need attention,” Nolan says. “When I first told one of my kids about what I was working on with Oppenheimer, they literally said to me, ‘Well, no one really worries anymore about nuclear weapons and war.’ To which my response was, ‘Well, maybe they should.’”

“When you watch the movies, it’s very clear what’s preoccupying Chris at any given moment in time,” says Emma Thomas, Nolan’s wife and the producer of all his films. “When our kids were little, Inception reflected his preoccupation with the importance of family.” And as one’s kids get older, one becomes even more preoccupied with what their future will look like — or if they’ll get to have one. Thomas notes that their daughter Flora is among the extras in a convoy of people escaping the dust storms in Interstellar.

Oppenheimer might have seemed like an odd story to tackle in 2021, when Nolan started the film. Since the Russian invasion of Ukraine thawed the ghosts of the Cold War, it has felt blisteringly relevant. And making it took Nolan beyond his comfort zones. “Oppenheimer’s story and Oppenheimer’s spirit have hung over a lot of my work,” Nolan says. “To finally address it head-on, it’s just something that I felt ready to do now.”

Oppenheimer Finds His Foil

Just about all of Nolan’s works could fit neatly into popular genres – superhero pictures, thrillers, war films, science-fiction adventures. Oppenheimer is something he’s never tackled before, and an unlikely summer studio release. It’s a historical drama, based on Martin J. Sherwin and Kai Bird’s Pulitzer Prize-winning 2005 biography American Prometheus, a 591-page tome that was the result of two decades of research and five years of editing. It might also be Nolan’s fastest-paced film, hurtling at a speed most blockbusters would envy — even though it’s packed with detail and is mostly a movie about scientists and politicians sitting in rooms talking. At times it feels like Nolan has managed to fit most of Sherwin and Bird’s massive book into the three hour and 9 second film, right down to the lime juice and honey mixture Oppenheimer dipped his martini glasses in.

Nolan needs an ironclad structure before he begins writing a script, so he spends months taking notes and drawing diagrams. The film is told largely from Oppenheimer’s perspective, and the director wrote much of the script in the first person. “I’ve never seen that done before,” says Matt Damon, who plays Lieutenant General Leslie Groves Jr., the Army officer in charge of the Manhattan Project. “Instead of ‘Oppenheimer walks across the room,’ it’s ‘I walk across the room.’ This was a way for him to signal that, Okay, this is what the movie’s going to feel like. It’s going to feel immediate.”

The first person Nolan shared the script with after Thomas was his visual effects supervisor Andrew Jackson, because he wanted to find a way to picture the things Oppenheimer was seeing in his head. “He was imagining things like subatomic particles, but very few of these things had been observed at that time,” says Jackson. To that end, the visual effects team went out early and filmed all sorts of experimental footage — artful ways of showing particles, waves, chain reactions, bursting stars, droplets of molten metal exploding. Nolan passed this footage on to composer Ludwig Göransson. “I saw how they did that splitting of the atoms, with this ultraviolet light,” recalls Göransson. “I was sitting in a dark theater seeing this huge screen and these lights swirling around, and I was like, Okay, this is what I want the music to sound like.”

Later, editor Jennifer Lame would cut some of this footage into the film alongside real world images of droplets, ripples, crackling fires, and breaking glass, to try and depict the way that Oppenheimer, in his own words, was “troubled by visions of a hidden universe.” These inserts, which eventually become more and more ominous, are a key visual motif in the film.

But while structuring the script, Nolan also realized that he had to bring in another perspective, in part because much of the film focuses on Oppenheimer’s troubles with the U.S. intelligence Establishment during the McCarthy period. He found that in the story of Admiral Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.), a former businessman and chair of the Atomic Energy Commission who took on an increasingly contentious role in Oppenheimer’s life after the war.

The relationship between Oppenheimer and Strauss reminded the director of the one between Mozart and Antonio Salieri in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus: the brilliant, troubled mind and the petty, powerful man who both admired and tormented him. The film’s framing device interweaves Oppenheimer’s 1954 security-clearance hearing and Strauss’s 1959 Senate confirmation hearing to become Eisenhower’s secretary of Commerce — two mid-century American political battles that were huge news stories at the time. (The scenes from Oppenheimer’s perspective are in color, while those showing Strauss’s point of view are in black-and-white.)

“I challenged a little the Mozart-Salieri of it all,” Downey recalls. “I said, ‘I’m not sure in some ways that Strauss isn’t a bit of the hero here,’ which kind of raised an eyebrow on Chris. I half-jokingly challenged him on whether Admiral Strauss hadn’t done everything that any patriotic American would’ve done. And he said, ‘Well, this will be a wonderful ongoing dialogue. So, will you do the film?’”

A Huge Cast of Familiar Faces

Any story about Oppenheimer has to also be a story of the many scientists who came together for the Manhattan Project — whom Thomas calls “the rock stars within the scientific framework of the day.” Nolan was adamant about not creating composite characters, and to make sure audiences could keep track, he wanted each figure to be played by not just great actors but also those with recognizable or distinctive faces. Rami Malek, who plays physicist David Hill, only appears in the film for several minutes, for example, and yet he makes a remarkable impression.

For Oppenheimer himself, a real rock star served as partial inspiration. Cillian Murphy says that the director would send him pictures of David Bowie from the late 1970s — “when he was so skinny and kind of emaciated but had these wonderful tailored suits with the trousers,” Murphy says. “That was the Oppenheimer silhouette.”

Of course, screen time wasn’t an issue for him; his character dominates the film. “I’ve played a physicist before, in a movie for Danny Boyle called Sunshine, so I must have resting physicist face,” Murphy says. “What became clear to me really quickly was that there’s no point in me trying to understand quantum mechanics. I don’t have the intellectual capability. My job is to go after the humanity.” Others arrived armed with a surprising amount of knowledge. Benny Safdie, who plays Edward Teller (now known as the father of the hydrogen bomb), studied nuclear physics in high school. “I was working with a physicist at Columbia University,” Safdie says. “I was doing cosmic rays. It is a deep passion of mine.”

Safdie, an acclaimed filmmaker himself, was stunned by how quickly Nolan and his crew were able to move through scenes of various physicists and politicians arguing, debating, and questioning. He recalls sitting in one location thinking, “We’re going to be here for a while because this is like seven, eight scenes, it’s a hundred people, it’s period. But we moved to a new location before lunch! I said, ‘I have no idea how you did that.’”

The constant hubbub of scientific activity is one of the engines of the film, and Nolan was determined to give his actors a lot of freedom to talk and move. “You look down, there’s no marks on the floor,” Downey says. “You wonder if you shouldn’t pace it up. And Chris says, ‘Don’t worry about that. That’s my problem.’”

Because everything in Oppenheimer moves so fast, Nolan and editor Lame later went through the film repeatedly for what they called “character passes” – watching each cut of the picture to make sure individual characters weren’t getting lost in the shuffle. Nolan likens it to making a bed and pulling on each corner of a sheet, or changing a tire and tightening lug nuts. “You have to tighten the corners opposite so that everything stays in balance.”

Many of the real-life figures had written books, so cast members came in with a broad sense of their lives. “I always like to empower the actors to try things if they have an idea,” Nolan says. “In the script, the scenes are very, very stripped down. So you have to push your actors to come in with a bigger sense of the world, and walk through the door into the scene knowing what they just said to the security guard outside or whatever coming in.”

The director points to a scene in the office of U.S. secretary of war Henry Stimson, played by James Remar, in which a group is picking targets for the atomic bomb. Remar learned that his character had honeymooned in Kyoto, and it’s a matter of record that the city was taken off the initial list of targets – but Remar and Nolan added a line about the honeymoon being one of the reasons why. “It has this bureaucratic quality of a group of men discussing massive destruction and how they’re going to do these awful things. And you’re suddenly seeing a human face to these negotiations,” Nolan says. “There are some nice awkward silences in the movie, and that’s one of my favorite.”

Rebuilding Los Alamos

Oppenheimer, who was born and raised in New York, fell in love with New Mexico at a young age. “When I was a kid, I thought if I could find a way to mix physics and New Mexico, my life would be perfect,” the character says early in the film. He gets to do just that when he proposes that the heart of the Manhattan Project be situated in New Mexico on a sparsely populated mesa known as Los Alamos. To re-create the early days there, Nolan and his production designer, Ruth De Jong, initially avoided the real location, which still houses a research laboratory. “It’s got Starbucks, and it’s all modernized,” De Jong says. “Chris said, ‘I’ve scouted it. I’m not going there.’” Instead, they effectively built their own town near Ghost Ranch. (The film did, however, shoot some of its interiors in the original Los Alamos locations, including the house Oppenheimer and his family lived in.) They also employed a researcher to dig deep into files from the U.S. government and universities to find both literature and photos to guide their work.

But the research was the research. When it came time to building the actual town, Nolan wasn’t a stickler for authenticity. “He kept saying, ‘This is my western,’” De Jong says. “He really wanted a very natural world, a very honest world.” She looked at films like Once Upon a Time in the West, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Heaven’s Gate, and The Wild Bunch as references as they were location scouting.

“I remember when I got to the middle of the desert and I saw a city, poured concrete foundation,” Safdie says of first encountering the impressive, working Los Alamos set. At the same time, Nolan wanted to have the freedom to move the camera and actors about, and to use forced perspective to make backgrounds seem bigger and more distant. “Look, Ruth, we designed this,” De Jong recalls Nolan saying to her. “You should just get a bunch of Home Depot sheds. No one will know. Clad them. And let’s get a bunch of prefab trailers and clad those.”

Among the non-Western titles Nolan shared with De Jong as inspiration: Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1975 classic Mirror. “Cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema had introduced me to Mirror prior to making Interstellar,” recalls Nolan. “Other than the fact that it’s a great masterpiece, we found it very useful for looking at the use of elements and the use of textures.” The visions of nature and the subatomic world that Oppenheimer sees throughout Nolan’s film reveal the workings of the physical world, but they also gather metaphoric force as the picture proceeds. “Mirror is an incredibly rich visual tapestry,” Nolan says, “but also one in which elements are allowed to breathe in symbolic ways.”

Large Format, Small Scenes

Some of Oppenheimer’s more spectacular moments feature simple, frame-filling close-ups of Murphy in Imax — something viewers are not used to because Imax was not designed for that. “You could never, ever put your camera as close as you wanted to your subject in order to get the close-up,” says van Hoytema. “So we started to build lenses that gave us that technical possibility to get much closer.” Kodak also created a black-and-white Imax film for the production.

Much of the cast was unprepared for how loud the cameras would be during intimate and dialogue-heavy scenes. Safdie remembers that when he first heard the roar of an Imax camera, he thought something had gone wrong and looked around to see if Nolan was about to call “Cut!” “It’s a machine that can pull 24 medium-format photography frames per second through a big gauge,” van Hoytema says. “And if you have a camera that sounds like a little diesel engine, it’s very hard to create some sort of very tender, sensitive, quiet, intimate moment.” Emily Blunt, who plays Oppenheimer’s wife, Kitty, notes that despite the deafening camera and the technical demands of individual scenes, Nolan almost always stands close to the actors, away from the monitor. “When you do the scene, he’s standing by the camera and he’s watching you. And he’s close. So you really feel you’re in it with him.”

The Bomb and Beyond

Nolan’s filmography is replete with machines that must not be used: a cloning device built by Nikola Tesla in The Prestige; a citywide (and very illegal) sonar Batman creates out of Gotham’s cell-phone signals in The Dark Knight. Machines running on hidden knowledge that, if revealed, could upend the world. Often, of course, these machines are used, and the consequences are soul-destroying for the characters. But that’s fiction. In real life, there is no more vivid example of this than the atomic bomb.

To re-create the Trinity test explosion — the first time in world history that a nuclear weapon was detonated — the production had to walk a fine line between the documented footage and artistic interpretation. Visual-effects supervisor Andrew Jackson notes that because Nolan wanted to avoid using too much CGI, they chose to constrain themselves in terms of the materials they could work with. Special-effects supervisor Scott Fisher and his team used high explosives and fuel, mixed to give the shape of a mushroom cloud, and then slowed the footage down to make the explosion seem bigger. The explosion had to be not just impressive but expressive, something whose fearsome power could function as a culmination of Oppenheimer’s quantum visions and fuel his simmering terror and shame. “This thing they’re all trying so hard to achieve is horrific,” Jackson says. “They’re all striving for something that no one would want.”

Prometheus Bound

In the wake of the atomic bomb, Oppenheimer became one of the most famous men in the world, and he eventually attempted to use his public profile to speak out against nuclear proliferation. But he doesn’t appear to have ever publicly expressed real regret or apologized for what happened at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He was, it seems, partly in denial about the role he had played.

“The whole film is about consequences – the delayed onset of consequences that people often forget,” Nolan says. It’s another idea that has run through his work. “You are not necessarily confronted with the strongest or worst elements of your action in the moment.” This idea is built into the style of the film. For Oppenheimer’s central theme, Nolan had suggested to Goransson using the violin to capture the physicist’s anxiety. “There is something with the unease of the violin, a fretless instrument, and how you can go from the most romantic, beautiful tone in a split second to neurotic and heart wrenching, horror sounds,” the composer says.

At the same time, the protagonist’s emotional conflict often remains beneath the surface, presenting a challenge for the actor playing him — which is also what drew Murphy to the part. “The film actors that I’ve always loved are the ones that, if they think it, you can feel it,” Murphy says. “That stuff, almost inexpressible, kind of beyond language.” Much of Oppenheimer’s moral quandary unfolds silently, as subtle changes on the actor’s face. “He’s got such an enigmatic quality to what he does,” Blunt says of Murphy’s performance. “There’s the whole shadow of his life playing across those rather extraordinary eyes in every scene.”

Murphy recalls a note Nolan gave him early on during a scene in which Oppenheimer argues with Groves: “I guess I came in pretty hard on the scene a couple of times. Chris took me aside and said, ‘He’s not a boxer; he’s a chess player.’ He would use his intellect rather than his physical presence, always, in these situations.”

Damon feels that the note expresses not just Oppenheimer as a character, but Nolan’s whole approach to the film. “It’s a message from a director to an actor saying, ‘I’m going to bring the whole movie to you. You can be as little as you need to, and it’s going to work.’ When I’ve been in that kind of partnership with a director, where you’re the fulcrum for the entire movie, you can get smaller and smaller.”

That is in some ways the captivating paradox of Oppenheimer. It’s a massively ambitious film about perhaps the most significant event of the 20th century (or, as Damon’s character puts it, “the most important fucking thing to happen in the history of the world”). And yet at its center is a tense, quiet man, pulled on all sides by various forces, tortured by what he’s unleashed. It’s the very opposite of a Great Man biopic.

The film itself is terrified by Oppenheimer’s accomplishment, reflecting its creator’s own fears for our future. “I don’t want to make a didactic film ever,” Nolan says. “I don’t want to tell people what to think or send a specific message.” But he also admits that after his journey through Oppenheimer’s life and work, there’s “there’s an inescapable nihilism that creeps in with the underlying reality that he changed the world in a way that can never be changed back. There’s no real catharsis there.”'

[a-libra-writes]

How the Peaky Blinders React To You Being a Jazz Singer

In This Preference, You’ll Be Singing To: Tommy Shelby, Arthur Shelby, John Shelby, Ada Shelby, Polly Grey, Michael Grey, Esme Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Lizzie Stark, Isaiah Jesus, Luca Changretta, Aberama Gold

THOMAS SHELBY

True to his reputation, he’d be interested in you right away, and that would inevitably grow to infatuation. Tommy would come to see you towards the end of your shift, when most of the customers are passed out and you’re sweetly crooning in a room of smoke and spilled drinks. He’s ready to drive you home, ignoring any questions about why he’s awake in the wee hours of the morning. Don’t be surprised if your club is suddenly bought by the Shelby company, especially if your boss wasn't treating you well. Tommy claims it was just a good business decision, since you’re popular and the club is close to their territory, but you know him well by this point. You’ll be well protected by guards and he often visits during your rehearsals, always looking tired and a bit lonely. Tommy's clearly relaxed by your singing, though maybe encouraging his advances isn't for the best.

ARTHUR SHELBY

No surprise, he takes a liking to you right away when you’re hired at his club. When you’re performing, he gets distracted, especially when you’re croning a love song in the wee hours to a bunch of drunk, passed-out patrons. In the corner of your eye, you’d notice Arthur looking at you like you’re hanging the moon. He’d die if you smiled at him during that. He’s incredibly protective of any weirdos trying to catcall you or grab you while you’re singing; he’ll grab them by the collar and throw them to the street or just bash their faces outright. The thing is, Arthur quickly learns your everyday personality is much different than your stage persona … and it makes him nervous to talk to you when you’re not working. You being so close and personal, not distant from the stage, makes him far more bashful.

JOHN SHELBY

The club you ended up at was always a favorite of his, and it was made even better by your singing. Eventually he stopped bringing his rowdy men around because their hollering and whistling began to piss him off - though he laughed his ass off when you threw a drink at one and continued your song. When it’s much later in the evening he’ll visit, since it brings John some peace, especially after a hard night of following Tommy’s orders. He’s too embarrassed to approach you at first, though it’d be easier if you worked for a Shelby club. He’d have an excuse to talk to you, for one. His crush would be painfully obvious, though he’s far more comfortable when he meets you outside the club. Conversation and jokes come more naturally.

ADA SHELBY

You two met by chance outside of work, and tonight she was finally coming to see you sing. That's when her little attraction turned into a full-blown crush. While Ada isn't big into jazz clubs, she's into you, so she'll visit several nights a week. Once you both are close, she insists you stop by her place after work, when the sun is just coming up. She gets up to let you in and brews you some hot tea to soothe your throat before you both fall asleep in bed. When you finally agreed to work at a Shelby club, Ada wanted it extra protected. She's ready to raise hell with her brothers if they think about starting something stupid at the club you work at.

POLLY GRAY

While Polly enjoys visiting the club you perform at, she warns you about the job in general. There are plenty of entitled men that could harass you, not to mention all the idiot drunks and brawls. Before long, you’ll be employed at a Shelby club to get some “proper” protection… though Polly will still ask you to carry a knife or a gun. Her protectiveness aside, she likes to tease about what you're wearing for the night, especially if you've a habit of getting ready at her place. When you're performing she likes to give you winks and knowing looks in the hopes you'll get flustered. If she’s had several drinks, she’ll whistle.

MICHAEL GRAY

He’s not the type who likes to be smitten with people right away, so he’ll swing between trying to impress you and trying to distance and be aloof. Michael finds your performances relaxing, even if the other club guests ruin it with their noise and loud drinking. Because he wants to avoid that crowd, he shows up early during rehearsals or very late in the evening, when you’re about to quit for the night. Even before you both are an item, Michael is protective and might hire an extra bodyguard for you. He waves off your concern by insisting all Shelby club employees are kept this safe (they aren’t, and he gets jealous of the guard anyway). Michael’s feelings are so obvious to you, but he’s too proud to admit it, even when he’s driving you home and buying you flowers and leaving nice gifts in your dressing room.

ESME

She doesn’t understand why you put up with that noisy, smokey club, with all those men that stare and try to make a move the second you step off stage. She prefers when you both sing together, outside in the sunshine or under the stars. When you come home after a long night of singing, she wakes up early and gets you in a nice bath or snuggled in bed. She’ll keep the house dark through the day so you can sleep. Esme understands you need to sing to eat, but you shouldn’t work your pretty voice until it’s hoarse!

ALFIE SOLOMONS

He doesn’t visit these kinds of jazz clubs that often; it’s not Alfie’s scene, but he closed a deal in one of them. You were singing that night, and it was the only pleasant part of the evening. So he sent flowers. The next time you received flowers, it was because his men and Sabini's tore up half the club in a brawl. The third time he figured he should deliver them personally, and that's when he walked you home, too. Afterward you suddenly had a job offer in Alfie's part of town, and sometimes you'd spot him while you rehearsed. Alfie only flirts and chats when you approach him first. He doesn't want you to feel indebted or intimidated, especially since your singing really does relax him.

LIZZIE STARK

As much as Lizize loves to hear you sing, she worries about the weird men you might encounter in the club. She urges you to carry a weapon when you’re going home, or she just walks you home herself. She enjoys helping you with make-up and dressing before a show, it feels sweet and personal, and keeps her mind off any unpleasant men that might bother you in a few hours. It’s not just that they annoy her and make her worry for your safety; she gets pangs of antsy jealousy when they’re all staring and drooling after you. She’d never tell you that, though. When you come home in the wee hours of the morning, Lizzie wakes up just to give you a hug and an exhausted good morning before falling back asleep.

ISAIAH JESUS

Isaiah stumbled into the club you sing at by accident, and he wouldn’t call it love at first sight… But he does swing by nearly every other night to watch you perform. You’d start to recognize his grin and starry eyes, and even during slow nights, Isaiah would be there. He’s had some trouble with your boss because he’s quick to cause trouble with the drunks that try to harass you, but eventually you two got to talking. Isaiah was the one to talk you into joining a Shelby club because it’s safer and you’d be paid better… and he’d get to see you more. He’s pretty embarrassed by his friends teasing about his crush, but he’s undoubtedly smitten by you.

LUCA CHANGRETTA

He was a huge flirt from the start. You didn’t even work at one of his clubs, he was invited there as an exclusive guest by some New York politician, but his attention was taken right away. After a second visit, he sends a fancy bouquet. After the fifth, it’s a gold bracelet with some diamonds. Luca likes the ego boost of you looking his way and recognizing him in the crowd, and eventually he’d invite you to work for one of his clubs - especially once the one you’re at gets involved in a gang brawl. Word spreads quick that anyone making a ruckus while you sing is getting thrown out… and any idiot that tries to approach you after the show is getting a hand or nose broken. He will melt if you sing in Italian or Spanish.

ABERAMA GOLD

He’s not a regular visitor to these fancy, noisy clubs, but Aberama will make an exception for you. He loves your voice, though he much prefers hearing you hum to yourself as you get ready for the evening’s set. It’s probably for the best he doesn’t watch you sing too much, because the moment a drunk catcalls you or tries to get on the stage, he’s got them in a chokehold and politely suggesting they leave. But no matter what, if Aberama isn’t working, he walks or drives you home, no matter the hour you’re finished with work. If you work at a Shelby club and there’s some drunk or brawl that causes you trouble, he’ll absolutely give Tommy grief about it.

[smallraindrops-blog]

Hi, just a heads up my ask is kinda specific and I apologize in advance. Could you do Hypnos x male reader, but the reader is the adopted son of Achilles and Patroclus. He’s usually dazed thinking about when he was alive and dwells on what happened when he was. Hypnos gets really excited when Hades sends for Thanatos to go get him from Elysium (currently stays in elysium with Patroclus) cause that means he gets to see him and watch him train. If you want to reject this, that’s okay, I get it.

Hey anon, sorry for the long wait and no worries about the specification. I actually found it kinda helpful. I just hope i got close to what you were looking for!

Wake me from this dreaming

Word count: 3.8

Hypnos x male! reader

Warning: violence, no kissing, some sexual/romance tension, flashback to death and war. No beta.

Just as quick extra note, this is not how real life ptsd works and any fighting advice is just off of Google, please understand that every thing is fictional.

It was the screaming that you remembered the most.

Achilles hunched over Patroclus' body, broken and bloodied. Screaming an inhuman sound that echoed in your head.

You knew you would carry that sound with you beyond your dying breath.

You should be screaming too you think but all you can do is tightened the hold on your spear.

Someone had to pay.

~~

You thought Elysium was beautiful. Or at least you did whenever you were able to force yourself out of the memories long enough.

Patroclus' voice was usually enough to pull you out. You blinked down at him, "Forgive me, Pa. I didn't hear you."

He waved a hand to the shade that stood before you, their spear at ready. "Another fool seeking glory."

You looked toward the warrior, "I guess I can't ask you to come back another time, can I?"

You stepped forward and Patroclus called out, "Mind your footwork. You were sloppy last time."

Countless Shades had seeked you out for the chance to earn the glory of beating the son of Achilles and Patroclus.

You slammed the bottom of the spear into the ground and walked to the shade without any weapons.

You smirked slightly at the nervous look the shade gave you.

And this fool before you was another thing to take down. And just like all the ones before them, it took a single hit.

You watched dispassionately as the shade fell apart before your eyes. But for a few moments you didn't see the shade but of the every soul you took laid before your vision. And the roaring of a crowd in your ears. You looked down at your fist and you could have sworn you saw it covered in blood.

"Y/n. Y/n." A hand touched your shoulder and you jerked around only to have your wrist caught by Patroclus.

You blinked, before you remembered exactly where you were. "I'm sorry. I-"

"Silence." Patroclus said gently. "Even after all this time?"

You didn't say anything for a moment. "Not all of it." You told him.

Just the worst of it.

Patroclus frowned and looked like he was about to say something when black smoke appeared.

You stared at the god that floated before you.

"Lord Hades had sent for you, Y/N." The god told you. You tried to remember what his name was.

"Why?" You asked.

The god gave you a disapproving glare. Thanatos, you suddenly remembered. You have seen him before...

"Do you need to know why Lord Hades sent for you?"

"Y/N, the god asked you a question." Patroclus shook you carefully. You blinked and pushed the call of the past away.

"A reason would be nice, yes."

"He wishes to speak to you. That is all the reasons you need."

You looked toward Patroclus, "Are you okay with me going?"

"Go. Tell Achilles I expect an explanation soon."

And with that you nodded, "Very well. Take me to Lord Hades."

~~

You weren't sure what to make of the house as Thanatos led you through a hallway. It felt like You were inside a living thing but none of the walls or floors moved.

What you did notice though was another god following behind you just down the end of the hallway. You turned your head around and saw a head full of white curls peeked around the corner, you couldn't quite see their face. A hand stuck out to waved excitedly at you.

You stared, not quite sure what make of the strange being or day you were having.

Thanatos snapped,"Hypnos, I know you have work to do. Leave now."

Hypnos ducked away, only to peek around again after a few seconds.

What an odd creature.

Thanatos opened the wide double door, "This is Lord Hades' private study so mind your manners." He warned as the door closed behind you.

You walked forward to the looming desk in the dark room. It looked just the one you passed with a long line of shades awaiting for Hades to appear.

Achilles stood before it and you could feel his rage coming off of him. When you saw him this angry when you both were alive, it usually meant some people were going to lose their heads. It was a rare sight now to see him almost shaking in rage.

It was all the warning you needed.

Hades looked up from your father and smiled.

It wasn't a kind one.

"Lord Hades, thank you for welcoming me to your home." You glanced over to Achilles, "Father."

You hoped he heard the unspoken words. His blue eyes met your and you almost frowned at the guilt you saw there.

"Now, Achilles, will you explain the situation to your son or shall I?" Hades asked, sounding pleased with himself.

You kept your face blank, not giving away the worries you felt. Achilles took a deep breath before turning to you.

"Lord Hades wants us to make a decision. To keep Patroclus in Elysium, I will be 'retiring' and you will have my current job."

"Or?" You asked. Achilles's mouth tightens, "Or Patroclus will be kicked out of Elysium along with you, and I will not be allowed again to have any contact."

So no decisions, just threats. What did Achilles do to make Lord Hades change the deal?

You looked at Achilles then to Lord Hades. "It would be an honor to serve the house, Lord Hades but may I make a request?"

"Oh? What request is that?" Hades glowered at you but you kept your blank face even if you wanted to personally slam your spear between his eyes.

"My father, Achilles will have his retirement in Elysium along with my other father, Patroclus." You paused, "And the retirement is permanent."

Achilles whipped his head and hissed, "Lad, what do you think you're doing? That was already part of the deal, don't waste it."

"Done." Hades said, "lucky for you, Achilles. Y/N is more like Patroclus, he is able to actually think ahead. You didn't even ask where I was sending you for your retirement. You are both dismissed."

Achilles opened his mouth to argue but you placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He glared at you but kept his mouth shut.

"Of course, thank you, lord Hades." You tugged your father to follow you out. As you followed your father down the hallways, you looked over to him.

"Pa is going to be furious." You told him mildly. Achilles just groaned.

~~

You met Hypnos, the odd little creature that followed you around, on the first day of your duty. Even if the first hour was Hypnos just peeking around the corner.

"I've heard of you, even all the way down here." Hypnos told you when he finally found his courage. He was floating but you see the excitement in his body, if he was on his feets, he would be rocking on his heels.

With his curls and his big golden eyes, he reminded you of those too pretty boys that rich politicians would bring along to watch fights while leaving the wives at home.

He leaned forward, his hand resting under his chin. His golden eyes watching your face with a curious look.

"Y/N, the Greek hero who took out monsters in a single strike, was able to hold off Ares and is the son of Achilles and Patroclus. Both great warriors in their own right." He smiled. "Is it true by the way?"

For a moment, all you saw was Ares' mad eyes staring down at you and the taste of blood in your mouth. Everything else had faded away, the sand and screaming of dying men echoed and all you knew is blood and blood and blood and blood -

“Y/N?” Hypnos’ voice, confused and almost too soft, pulled you out.

"Yes. I fought him.” And you said nothing else and stared at the wall. You didn’t realize the memories had taken you for a trip. Normally, only your fathers' voices were able to pull you back.

"You must tell me how!" He filled in your vision, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“No.” You said bluntly. "I'm busy." And you're too attractive for someone so irritating, you thought.

“But-“ Hypnos pouted and you had made yourself look away before you got caught staring at his mouth.

"Hypnos, don't bother him. It is still his first day." Prince Zagreus spoke from behind Hypnos.

Hypnos spun away from you and floated around Zagreus. "Oooh, so how did you die this time? Did a chariot run you over again?"

Zagreus gave a strained smile in greeting. "Forgive Hypnos, I think he forgot his manners when he heard you were joining us in the house."

You shook your head, "It's perfectly fine, your highness." You stared at the prince, the whole reason you were even here was because he looped your father into helping with his runaway attempts.

Zagreus nodded, his face polite but nervous. "Achilles told me I should train with you. That you are actually better at fighting than he is."

"Only in hand to hand combat, otherwise, if you give my father a spear he would win every time." You told him, trying to push away the memories but you could already smell the sharp tang of blood.

"He fought a tribe of centaurs when he was a mere child, Zagreus and he won!" Hypnos gushed, "And he took down Ares!"

You shook your head slightly and the smell of blood went away. Hypnos did it again.

How odd.

Hypnos used Zagreus' head as an armrest much to the latter's displeasure. Zagreus shook him off as he asked, "You killed Ares?"

"No, just knock him out long enough to let my men escape." You left it at that. Ares was more monster than god, and you would rather not revisit those nightmares.

"Zagreus if you like, I can train you later. It would be interesting to see how different our training might be." You said, hoping they would take the hint.

Zagreus nodded, "Of course, I will come find you later."

Zagreus moved to leave but upon seeing that Hypnos wasn't going to leave, grabbed Hypnos' by his cape and pulled him away.

"Come on, Hypnos. I think you do even less work than I do, and I don't even work anymore." Zagreus said pleasantly but an undercurrent of a warning.

You didn't hear Hypnos' response beyond an offended gasp.

You shook your head, no wonder Achilles only wanted quiet when he came to see you and Patroclus.

~~

Of course when it was time for Zagreus' training with you, Hypnos followed along. You thought about kicking him out but knew he would sneak back in later. You know because this wasn't the first time you trained Zagreus and nothing else seemed to work.

Also for some reason, this god ended up being a grounding point for you. You didn't want to admit it but it made being in the house bearable and not a daily fight to stay in the presence. Not that you needed his help.

You pointed toward Zagreus to the middle of the room and turned to Hypnos who beamed up at you. "You. Corner. If I hear one peek from you…" You warned.

Hypnos held his hands and floated silently to the corner. You ignored how Hypnos' eyes followed you around the room. Hypnos wasn't the first fan boy you had and as long you don't feed the attention seeking, he will get bored sooner or later.

Zagreus was a good student. Mostly. But you could tell your father was more careful with him than he was with you.

You shook your head and held up an open hand, "Hit me again."

Zagreus swung a fist into your hand, only to hit the side of your palm. "Alright, step back."

You crossed your arms, "You need to be more intentional in your hits. You're creating more work for yourself. And you won't always have that sword on you." 

Zagreus frowned, "I'm fighting monsters down there, not humans. If I don't have a weapon, they're not going down."

"Like I said you won't always have a weapon in you. Lord Hades took away my father, and that was your best tool. What are you going to do if he takes away your weapons and you can't get them back?"

You raised a brow and asked "Are you going to stay down here and obey like a good little boy?"

And you could tell you stuck a nerve at the scowl Zagreus gave you. Hypnos made a mocking sound and Zagreus whipped his head around to glare at Hypnos.

You mentally sighed, your father got soft over the years. Just for arguing back, Achilles would have You running laps from sunup to sundown while carrying bags of feed.

"Here, let's wrap up with a quick brush up for your next lesson." You said, not bothering to comfort him. The sooner you can break Zagreus out of your father's soft training, the better. "Do you know all the weak points of a body?"

Before Zagreus could respond, Hypnos butted in. "Oooh, I do! Eyes and groin!"

You took a breath when suddenly an idea came to you. You turned to the god, "Hypnos, since you're so eager, come on over here."

Hypnos looked at Zagreus who shrugged then back to you. "Okay." He dragged out the word with suspicion in his tone.

"Well?" You asked, keeping your tone friendly with a smile on your face. You waited until Hypnos got close enough to grab his shoulders and forced him to stand on his feet.

You grabbed his face with a hand, squishing his cheeks. He made a squeaky sound and you bit back a smirk. A little humiliation should be enough to get Hypnos to stay away and you can focus on what you came here to do. The only reason you bothered with helping Zagreus was because your father asked you too.

"Pay attention, I expect you to remember this for your next lesson." You told Zagreus.

"Hypnos got two right, but he forgot about the nose and honestly, almost anything you will ever fight will have a weakness here." You tapped Hypnos between his eyes which made him blinked. "Hit here or here if you can get a good upward swing ," you tapped the tip of Hypnos' nose, "With preciseness you won't need much force and you save energy as well."

Next You turned his head toward you and could see the start of a flush. Good, it was working.

You pointed to the area between the ear and jaw, "This won't kill but it will make your opponent dizzy and that could buy the second you need to finish them."

You went on listing other parts of the body for Zagreus and Hypnos obediently went along with it. Moving his arm and lifting a leg up.

"And lastly, the groin like Hypnos said earlier but I doubt I need to go in depth about that area." You finished as you let Hypnos go.

"Got it?" You asked.

"Yes, sir." Zagreus smirked at his friend's misfortune.

`Hypnos just stayed silent, flushed to his hairline.

~~

You were sure you wouldn't see Hypnos for a while but the little god surprised you. Just a day after the training, he seeked you out.

"Achilles didn't teach you how to fight, did he?" Hypnos asked. His dark circles were deeper than normal and you got the feeling he didn't get much rest.

"What makes you say that?" You asked, actually curious about Hypnos' thought process.

"I mean, you're unusually strong and you seem to have, let's say, a more ruthless fighting style than your father does. Not bad, mind you, just different." Hypnos shrugged, "I've seen him train Zagreus. And it's just different."

You thought about bushing him off, but something about how tired he looked made you speak up. "You're right. Kinda. He wasn't my first teacher. I was sold as a child for a fighting ring. And they usually don't let the loser live." You tighten your hold the spear, to ward off the memories.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I couldn't imagine." Hypnos said. "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

You blinked several times, "You didn't."

But the look on Hypnos' face told you he didn't believe you.

~~

Screaming. Inhuman mad screaming.

Patroclus' body broken on the ground and Achilles stared past You even as you tried to talk to him.

You felt like you lost both of your fathers as you trailed behind Achilles on his warpath.

Hands wet with blood and you think you should be screaming too but Patroclus was broken and gone and the screaming never stopped-

"Y/N. Hey, Y/N." Hypnos stood in front of you, his big golden eyes concerned. For a moment, you weren't standing in the East wing with Hypnos.

But a burning city and people running and crying. And Hypnos stood in the middle of it.

What was the little god doing here?

“Y/N!”

You blinked and you were back in the east wing, no smoke or no fire or crying followed.

“Hypnos?” You realized you had a tight grip on Hypnos’ arm as if you wanted to yank him out of the memories.

You let go. “I-i my apologies, Hypnos. I-“

“Wowie, that must have been a bad one huh?” Hypnos didn’t look upset and you frowned at him. “Are you not…?” You trailed off, not sure what to say.

“No.” Hypnos said softly. “I know the story about how you… Died and what happened to your head.” Hypnos waved a hand toward his own head, trying to make his point clear. “I guess what I’m saying is no, I’m not upset or mad or whatever. I just wanna know if you’re okay.”

You said nothing for several moments, looking at Hypnos’s kind face and realized to your great shame exactly how little you understood Hypnos and his intentions.

“Yes, thank you.” You told him softly.

~~

You tapped your foot as you waited on Zagreus to show up. You have been in the house for several months now and Zagreus didn't always show up for training especially since he was getting closer to the surface.

Hypnos floated lazily around the room, waiting for you to look away so he could touch one of the weapons.  Normally Skully was here to chase him off but apparently not even Skully wanted to show up.  

After a few more minutes and warning Hypnos off on touching the spear, you got tired of waiting for Zagreus.

"Come on, Hypnos I think his highness must be on one of his attempts." You told him.

"Wait, wait or you could train me!" Hypnos circled you. He gave you the puppy dog eyes and you shook your head.

"Please. I've been so good when you're training Zagreus! Just one time." Hypnos begged.

And of course, you gave in.

"Alright. On your feet."

You chuckled at Hypnos' cheering.

Hypnos was… You didn't know what he was. After the day of failed attempts of embarrassment, Hypnos stuck around. He would follow you around like a lost puppy whenever he could.  

You knew he was lonely, quietly trying to repair the broken bonds with his family. That he had near encyclopedia knowledge about Greek Heroes and monsters, even about your own fathers'. That he loved sweets but would eat raw honey every time if given the chance.

And the fact that just like your fathers, he was able to pull you back into the now.

He was...

Friend, you think firmly, he had become a friend.

~~

“Can I ask you something? Like super personal?” Hypnos said out of the blue one day. You raised an eyebrow, “I have never known a personal question to stop you before but sure, you can ask me.”

“Why haven’t you drunk from the river Lethe? Wouldn’t it help?” Hypnos said, biting a thumbnail.

Oh. No wonder he was nervous.

“I don’t want to forget. I need to remember as much as I can.” You told him gently. Hypnos tilted his head, confusion on his face.

“If I forget, I won’t be the same person. You can’t forget without losing a part of yourself and I want to keep all of me. The bad and good.” You tried to explain, feeling like you sound like a cheesy philosopher.

“Oh. I think I get it.” Hypnos said. His smile was small but warm. Blood and darkness, you had gotten soft. You couldn’t stop the bust of fondness that your chest and you already looked like a fool so why not go farther?

“Like you, I wouldn’t want to forget you, Hypnos.” You said, a blush forming on your cheeks.

Hypnos blinked as if he didn’t understand what you just said but you saw a blush form on his own cheeks.

“I wouldn’t want to forget you too, Y/N.”

Part two

[likorys-shimenawa]

[Sorry for trying to make you not be an ableist fuck to people who rely on text-readers, who definitely do not appriciate random asterisks. After reading your entire reply I see it's a doomed attempt, so do continue being ableist fuck.]

[Also bringing your personal family history into discussion of modern day genocide carried out by Israel is pretty manipulativ trauma dumping. Quite textbook 'look at me, I am a victim therefore I cannot do anything wrong ever'. Also known as 'but I have black friends'.]

You know, I was gonna get angry and even did for a moment.

Then I realized you are so absolutely clueless about my country, to the point you couldn't even be fucked to look up a wikipedia article about it, so it would be like being angry at a toddler for not knowing quantum physics.

I'm still gonna pick apart your limp attempt at 'reponse' though, because I am still bored.

Ask yourself why they are in Israel and not Poland.

Before I answer your question, do open a history book and try to find Poland on a map during WWII. Then we can talk.

The Polish didn’t want their Jews back. So they made Jewish life in Poland unlivable and told them to “go back to their country.” So they did.

For the record: Poland supports creation of Israel. We also supported Jewish militia groups and provided them with weapons. [We condemnd the 6 day warand cut ties then.]

Do you know WHY Jews left Poland so easily? Cause we were THE ONLY COUNTRY IN THE BLOCK who allowed Jews to leave without a visa while also being A COMMUNIST STATE. How dense do you have to be to try and use 'this communist leader was Bad' is any more of a gotcha than 'this confederate politician was Bad'?

You really never saw a history book IRL, huh, cause if you did you would know end of communism also coincidentally meant much better relationship with Jews. Wonder why? Maybe because a coutry suffering communism and fighting for freedom of speech was kinda unsafe place period?

I did laugh at 'Poland made itself unliable to the Jews', if only because I wonder who was given back the stolen homes - enough of them to have it become a common complaint that we bitch about so much I literally adress return of stolen land and what to do with people living there in my answer before. Maybe ghooosts~!

[I really wasn't gonna open the whole 'there are no cats in america Jews in Palestine', but if you wanna shit over my country then bring up the fucking sources of shut the fuck up. :)]

Cause I actually studied it. I know exactly what my country did and exactly how much we fucked up and how easy it is for a traumatized population to take out their trauma on innocent people.

You clearly have no clue.

Otherwise you would know, oh, I dunno, the facts below? Which are so basic they are all in a wikipedia article?

Poland had the biggest population of Jews until 18th century due to religious freedom laws he had (until mother Russia came and fucked us over). We were even called 'Paradise of the Jews' by historians.

So much so that when the Black Plague was going on, Poland was this weird white spot where it didn't spread. One of the theorized reasons is that we literally had so many Jews, their religious practices (somewhat) kept the Plague at bay.

Since you like playing numbers: in 17th century, 3/4 of global Jews lived in Poland. When 3 million Polish Jews died in Holocaust, they counted for literally half of all the Polish deaths.

Poland came back onto the maps thanks to Polish Jews joinging the armies. More than any other minority iirc.

As much as I bitch about Poland having a boner for its own war history that's only shadowed by US's one... I studied for 10 years in Łódź - you know, the cite where the biggest ghetto existed - and every single semester half the eclectives was about Holocaust. I would bet I know more about it than you, given the complete lack of any knowledge you've alread shown.

What is happening in Gaza now would pale in comparison. This current genocide is a joke in comparison.

Please tell the class more about the slaughter and violence you personally plan to bring on people for no other reason than your own lack of historical knowledge.

Cause let me explain to you, you absolute idiot.

After WWII, the camps were opened and prisoners were let out. Germans were put there in their place to be killed off, because Polish people were not very happy after WWII. We also just put them in closed fields and killed them off across few days. You can read about that in a book called Mała zbrodnia. Polskie obozy koncentracyjne. I'm 100% seriousl when I'm telling you Israel might meet similar fate when it looses, cause thanks to the Internet we know everything and not even Nazis set up pizzerias in bombed houses while they were still bombing the very same region.]

[For the record: Poland did absolutely amazing things to aid Jews during WWII. We also got a huge antisemitism problem, because guess what - Nazis weren't stupid and when they took our country, they would set a Jew to guard the Poles and Pole to guard the Jew so nobody could trust anyone. There was also the propaganda of 'Hitler loved Polish people, it's just those dirty Jews' that gets to you when you watch your country literally stop existing.

If you think I'm joking, there are people legit thinking 'Hitler would come and sort them queer out' like we wouldn't be next on the chopping block. We're kinda idiots sometimes.

We have our own antisemitic legends the black Wołga car that goes around and steald children - to let off blood to send to Germans with leukemia.

Or Jews using it to make maca.

Or Russian mafia.

Or literal Satan if the car has 666 in the registration.

Like I said, Polish people are kinda idiots and really xenophobic. We're gonna bitch about it, but at least we don't kill people who try to say that, even if we curse them out for it. For all the fuck ups and the pathetic wasy Polish people deny our dirty history, at least we don't start a genocide to murder every journalist trying to publish information about it.]

BTW, you could also read about 10 millions German women who were raped in just 3 years after WWII, or the 2 million abortions performed on them in the same 3 years.

Or I can tell you about the way American soldiers would wave a gun at a women on a street and she would take off her underwear to make the rape quicker while still walking to their car.

We will never EVER allow another nation to kill us again. We will die fighting to the last Jew standing if that’s what it takes. Never Again, means NEVER AGAIN.

You know, it's funny how quickly you twisted 'never again' to be Jew-specific. How Nazi Zionist of you.

When South Africa dismantled apartheid, it did not end with the expulsion of all white South Africans. They became part of the new South Africa, just without the criminal discriminatory oligarchic powers the apartheid goverment had. When Bolivia recognized its indigenous heritage and became a plurinational state, it did not mean that people of European descent were expelled in masse. It meant the recognition of the previously discriminated indigenous and mestizo people of Bolivia and the beginning of a path of integration and revalidation.

What I mean is that it's ridiculous to think that decolonization inherently means mass suffering and relocation, that's what colonization does. Decolonization is recognizing the crimes of colonization, but more importantly, material, political and social steps to give power and self-determination to the exploited native people who were victims of colonialism and imperialism.

In multicultural societies, you don't go like in that Peter Griffin meme with a skin tone chart and saying 'well, you go back to Europe, you go back to Africa, you stay here'. You build a new society on the paradigm of dignity for exploited people and equality under the law. People are acting like this is some sort of fantastic utopia instead of real initiatives that were done in living memory, with successes and failures, as all such initiatives have. One must ask why are some so insistent that multicultural societies can't thrive, especially when for most of history, societies were indeed like that. Consider why you think like that.

[inky-duchess]

Lessons Writers can learn from Hamilton

Guess who finally watched Hamilton? I love historical dramas and films and now historical musicals. I am a bigger nerd than before and I can't stop singing My Shot. So what can we learn about writing from Hamilton?

Aaron Burr, Sir

I really feel for Aaron Burr during the beginning of the story. Most of us have dealt with a similar issue: working hard yet somebody is always better than you. Even though Burr is technically the antagonist by story's end, most of the audience does get his point. But the problem with Burr, both by the audience's view and Hamilton's is the fact that he doesn't say what he believes in. La Fayette wants the fall of monarchy and better equality. Hamilton wants to make a place for himself in the world. Eliza wants her family to be happy. Burr tells Hamilton to keep his opinions to himself leading to Hamilton to ask, "Burr, the revolution's imminent. What do you stall for? If you stand for nothing, Burr, what'll you fall for?" Every character should have something they fight for. It endears them to the audience and allows us to stand behind them. Without goals and principles, a character will always just remain a name on a page and a collection of actions without meaning.

A different PoV- a different story.

During the Helpless section of the story, we witness the scene through Eliza Schuyler's eyes. We see her sister Angelica crossing the room to Alexander Hamilton to get him to dance with Eliza. Eliza sees Alexander as an honourable gallant, who has stolen her heart. Then in Satisfied, we see the scene from Angelica's PoV. Angelica is less naïve. She notes Hamilton's recognition of their last name, realizing that he's out to get a rich wife. She also realises that Hamilton will never be satisfied in life and that he's not a great catch socially or financially. "I asked about his fam'ly, did you see his answer? His hands started fidgeting, he looked askance He's penniless, he's flying by the seat of his pants". By showing this scene in dual PoV, we are awaken to both sides of Hamilton, the romantic version and the shrewd politician climbing his way up. By choosing a PoV character to tell a particular part of the story, you are moulding the events to the character's preconceived notions and opinions.

Foreshadowing

Hamilton does one thing exceptionally well. It foreshadows the ending very well. Hamilton repeatedly tells us that he isn't going to throw away his shot. We think it means his shot at rising up from poverty and his chance at notoriety in the Revolution. It starts becoming literal as Philip goes off to his first duel, with Hamilton almost begging Philip to fire his weapon away from his opponent. It doesn't do Philip any good. Later on during the duel against Burr, Hamilton intentionally misses his shot just as his son had only to die when his opponent discharged his weapon, killing him. Burr even called back to Philip's duel while describing Hamilton's affect before their own duel. You only begin to realise how profound the echo of My Shot is.

Alluding to a bigger picture

Hamilton may be a musical with no dialogue but that does not mean that there is no tell in the story. The actors do a great job of alluding to a deeper story behind the lyrics. During his last corporeal scene with Eliza, Hamilton's affect tells us that he at least very much suspects that he is not going to make it back this time. Lin Manuel Miranda's subtle expressions are just masterful. His mouth is saying one thing and his eyes are saying something completely else. In another brilliant Lin moment, the scene where Alexander blows up at Washington after the very first duel, you can see how angry Hamilton is. He is shaking despite his polite, yet curt replies. We don't even have to have the "Don't call me son" exchange. Lin's face tells us everything. Hamilton loves Washington like a father and resents him for rejecting his attempt to defend his name. We do not even have to be told, they showed us. There is always a deeper meaning to what a character does or says.

Your Protagonist is allowed do shitty things

A protagonist is not perfect. Most of the stories we read are narrated by people, who are by definition imperfect. If you look at any story the narrator/protagonist is usually a good person but has flaws or has done some questionable things. Hamilton is the good guy of the story, the protagonist, the hero. He's pro-Revolution, anti-slavery and has a troubled past. Even still Hamilton has an affair. It is not his best move or even the most savoury thing. There is no redeeming reason for him to cheat but even still, the audience either forgives him outright or takes it in their stride. Your protagonist does not have to be squeaky clean. They are allowed to make dumb decisions.

Remember History has its eyes on you

The one thing I often find missing in stories and worldbuilding is the media's/public's opinion on your characters or even the world around them. Hamilton hits the nail on the head. Your characters have no say on how they are perceived by their peers or the world around them. It is an interesting component to add in any narrative. What does the public say about your characters and world? "And when you're gone, who remembers your name? Who keeps your flame? Who tells your story? Who tells your story? Who tells your story?"

[legends-live-in-memories]

Downtown Detour

ayo its ya boi back with more timari and ignoring my wips cuz im plagued with timari brainrot

written in the same au as: 

Rooftop Rendezvous and 

Alleyway Altercation (NSFW)

AO3 link to the series

Timari 2.2K words, no warnings other than references to intimate relations

Summary:

“Red Robin makes a breakthrough in his investigation of the new Gotham Rogue and goes to confront her about it.”

without further ado

Tim could not believe this. The new Rogue, Karma—Marinette Dupain-Cheng— had been spotted a total of three times since their last encounter by either his brothers or the cops and none have been able to subdue her for more than fleeting seconds. She was caught breaking into a politician’s house when the man was away on another one of his exotic hunting trips; another artefact was stolen from the museum after that, one they were unable to retrieve; and finally she was last seen escaping from Robin by the mayor’s office, only no one know what was taken from there. All three times she was spotted and nothing to show for it other than bruised egos and missing items. 

During his little investigation into her supposed civilian name, he came across a series of interesting police reports from Paris, France of all places. A penchant for grand theft auto since her teenage years as well as a series of vandalism and reports of stolen student records from her high school at the time. There was even a rescinded expulsion, a litany of suspensions and a plethora of unexcused absences. She was a cookie cutter criminal in the making. But for Tim, it didn’t make sense. While all the evidence points to a child delinquent grown into an adult criminal, something about the situation set Tim’s teeth on edge. There was something missing. Something she wanted Tim to find out, if her giving him her name was anything to go by. But what?

She had no local address on file and the last piece of legal information that had any traceable location was a one-way ticket to Shanghai from four years ago. Immediately after her high school graduation. All her social media was deleted around the same time. She had effectively gone off the grid up until her emergence as a part of Gotham less than stellar night life. But why?

A closer look at her time in Paris led him to discover an interesting trend but it wasn’t anything concrete. Starting about when Karma—Marinette— was thirteen, her unexcused absences lined up with some of their infamous akuma attacks. While at first it could be argued that many children had unexcused absences in the beginning, and she had less than perfect attendance even before then, her disappearances also coincided with attacks far from her school which was where she should have been at those times. Then there were reports filed by police who spoke with her parents about her sneaking out at night which also lined up with notable akuma attacks. Either she was an overzealous fan of the city’s temporary heroes, or she was constantly in the thick of the action and kept it a secret from people close to her, letting her reputation suffer for it.

‘Trust me, I know all about acting in the name of the greater good. The good-girl act got tiring after a few years,’ she had said. ‘Much more rewarding to give into your own self-interests,’ she continued. ‘Something you could try emulating.’

Her words echoed in his mind. He never thought much of them before, his mind preoccupied with other things her mouth was doing that night. It could also be chalked up to everyone being the hero of their own story and she had just coloured her own experiences. But just maybe… 

Before he could entertain that train of thinking, his phone alarm was alerting him of his scheduled patrol. Hopefully he could catch a hold of his current person of interest and get some more answers. And perhaps get a read on what her intentions are in this city. With him.

~~~~~~~~

The skyline was a welcoming sight as he flung himself from building to building. The wind beneath him carried him across the sky like an actual bird and the thrill of the freefall lit his nerves on fire. His route was quiet but his appearance should coax out a certain thief. Red Hood was investigating a weapons smuggling deal that was set to take place by the Gotham Harbour. Nightwing was back in Bludhaven with Signal, introducing him to nighttime patrol. Robin and Black Bat were tracking a drug deal that was rumoured to disrupt the balance of the Narrows. Spoiler was with Batman doing their regular routes and Batwoman was doing her own thing somewhere. Oracle, as always, was on standby on comms and monitoring everything. This was the perfect opportunity for Karma to strike so Red Robin just had to be patient. The night was young.

An hour into his sweep of the city and Oracle was patching him into a radio call about a break-in in some pawnshop back in the Fashion District. It wasn’t on his route tonight but Oracle figured that with their likely suspect, and his arrangement with her, he was their best shot at apprehending her. If only temporarily. 

He arrived at the pawnshop without fanfare and found the storefront window broken into. Further inspection led him face to face with the object of his affection. Karma was posed calmly behind the cashier counter rifling through an assortment of jewelry that was left on display in the glass cases. It was only the faint twitch in her eyebrow that indicated her awareness of his presence. Other than that he went completely ignored. That won’t do. Not tonight. He approached her slowly and stopped on the other side of the counter, leaning into her space. He could faintly smell her rose-scented perfume. Her strawberry shampoo. Even the cherry lip gloss she wears under the mask. He’s tasted it enough times to know how strong it was. For a vision clad in black she was rather fond of red flavours. 

“Can I help you, Tweety Bird?” her voice was soft, sprinkled with faux indifference, not wanting to disrupt the background noise of rings and necklaces clanking together. She hasn’t looked at him once.

“Breaking and entering and attempted theft are serious crimes, Karma.” He saw a faint twitch of amusement in her eyebrow but her posture was relaxed and non-assuming.

“That’s not why you’re here. That’s not why I’m here either.” Her eyes sweep up to him as she stops searching the jewelry. She’s staring intently at him as if he’s to understand the meaning behind the words she’s not saying. He does. They’ve played this back and forth before. Danced their little tango of push and pull. 

“You wanted to see me then? Thought this was the best way to get my attention, hmm?” He leaned in, pressing his weight more into the counter. She matched his advance and propped her face in the palm of her hand. Her finger tapped on her mask. He figured if the accessory wasn’t there she’d be biting that finger instead. 

“Well it worked. Didn’t it? You’re here after plenty of time to conduct a rather thorough investigation into who I am. Or was.” She took off the mask, finally, and he was right. Her lips were shining in the dim light of the night with the familiar hues of her lip gloss. He presses on to not let himself get distracted by the slight smile on her face.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. Paris, born and raised. Above average student in terms of grades but a disciplinary streak about a hundred miles wide.” At this her head tilts in amusement. Her faint nod encourages him to divulge all the aspects of his research. “Absences and tardies more often than any recorded presences. About twelve suspensions in the span of three years and a rescinded expulsion when you were about fourteen. A couple run-ins with the police in regards to charges of theft and property destruction.” Her face scrunched in an adorable pout at that as if it were a reminder of an embarrassing moment and not outlines of criminal offenses.  

“Definitely not my finer moments, I assure, but keep going. You’re doing so well,” she interrupted him. She had shifted so that she could jump over the counter and sit atop it, her legs crossed and her arms bearing her weight behind her. Red Robin was temporarily silenced by the arch in her back and the lean lines of her exposed neck. He rose to his full height; just barely reaching her shoulder, due to her new vantage point. 

“You disappeared after your high school graduation, my investigation says you ran off to Shanghai but I believe there’s more to it than that.” She had uncrossed her legs to accommodate him between them and drew him closer by his shoulders. Acting on instinct, his arms found purchase on her waist and he was brushing the pad of his gloved thumb across the exposed skin. It was uncharacteristically soft but neither heeded mind to it.

“You think there’s more to me than that?” She leans in, almost breathing the same air as him. “You’d be the first,” she continued while snaking a hand up his neck to scratch lightly at his scalp. The touch sent shivers down his spine and had his toes curling in anticipation.

“So tell me then,” he licked his lips and stared at her through the film of his mask. “What is Paris’s Lady Luck doing here causing mischief in Gotham?” The question was a gamble and could upset the rapport he had with Karma. He was the team’s only lead on her, for better or worse, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was between them.

It was probably the right thing to say though, because she hasn’t left him yet but instead was staring at him with something indescribable in her eyes. Excitement? Approval? Affection? Red Robin wasn’t sure what to make of the glimmer of emotion in her eyes other than to take it as a good sign.

“You got this far in your investigation, Tweety Bird,” she leaned in closer, just a hair’s width away. “Why ruin the chase and tell you everything now?” Her lips were brushing against his as she spoke and the cherry flavour was almost distracting. His tongue peaked out to swipe a stronger taste. The arms around her waist tightened and he pulled her to the edge of the counter, her legs wrapping around him on instinct.

“Surely you could reward me for figuring out this much, right?” His voice was pitched so low if she wasn’t already breathing in his words he would have worried that she didn’t hear him. “After all, it’s not everyday someone discovers the identity of the allusive Ladybug.”

“The bird wants a reward, does he?” She finally sealed his lips with hers, stealing any half-baked retort he might have had. This kiss was different from the multitude they’ve exchanged in their times together, carrying over the unanswered emotions from their last encounter and introducing new ones into the mix. The air felt still and cool on his face and the fingers in his hair tightened even further. 

They were like that for what felt like hours but was merely a few minutes; just calmly exchanging kisses, nothing straying beyond that silently defined line. They didn’t need anymore for tonight. Karma had taken to progress this further by trailing her lips to the sharp cut of his jaw. She alternated between small kisses and even smaller bites as she made her way up to his ear. Her breath was warm against the shell of his ear and he leaned into the faint contact. A lick and a bite later, her lips were curled up into a smirk as her hand in his hair held him in place. 

They stayed like that for moments lost to time. Neither making the next move, nerves buzzing with anticipation. He felt an itch for more that only she could scratch and she was denying him that satisfaction. Despite that he made no inclination to instigate more, letting the ball stay in her court. After more silent minutes he felt rather than heard her chuckle against his ear. She jumped off the counter, pressing every curve of her body against his. Even then, he unconsciously tried to pull her closer, pressing her against his front and the tempered glass of the counter. Before he could do as he pleased with his new leverage, she wiggled out of his grasp and moved towards the broken storefront window, mask in hand. 

“It was great to see you tonight,” she throws a glance over her shoulder, readjusting the mask over the lower half of her face. “And I’m glad my assumptions of you were right.”

“What assumptions? What do you mean?” The confusion was almost palpable beneath the traces of cherries. He moved to reach for her, to keep her here for a bit longer. To explain herself. To not leave him. She evaded his grasp and leapt out the broken window. From outside the building she turned to him and aimed what was clearly Red Robin’s grappling hook out to the nearest building.

Instead of answering him she chuckled and tilted her head in amusement at his growing distress. 

“See you around, Tim.” Her parting words were lost to the air as she shot off with the grapple into the night. Red Robin stood frozen, rooted in place at the use of his civilian name. How did she know? Who exactly did he decide to get entangled with? Among the cacophony of new questions one thing was for certain.

He was utterly fucked.

[specsforwoo]

A "Fake" Love Story | Mafia!Doyoung

This series is a collaboration between myself (@marshmellowmin) and the author @specsforwoo. Please continue to support us as we release more related content and continue our stories. Thank you!

Doyoung: Politician. Ended up in congress when the last President was impeached, makes sure the laws work in favor of S-NCT. Was a trade dealer before becoming a politician. Is popular amongst the common population of Korea.

Years in Mafia: 10

Weapon of Choice: Billet 4x4 Snatch Rope

Body count: 3

___

*Ding*

“Thank you for coming to Cherry Blossom Co! How can I help you today?” You popped your head up from the rose bush you were plucking at the moment to look towards the door of your little flower shop. By the daisies and petunias stood a man in his early to mid twenties, shifting his eyes between the flowers before landing on your own figure.

“ Ah, I was wondering if I could get a bouquet made by tonight? Every other shop in the area is backed up with orders.” He gave a small smile before pulling his wallet out of his suit pocket “I can pay extra if it helps.”

Walking from around the massive flower pot, you wiped the dirt off of your gloves before taking them off and shoving them into the apron tied around your waist. “Don’t worry about paying extra, I can make it for you right now!” Walking over to the workbench you pulled out a basic brown wrapping paper, folding it and laying it flat down on the table. “What is the occasion? A date maybe?” You looked up to the stranger, who had moved from the daisies over to the lilies, running his fingers gently along the petals. He probably had no problem securing a date, if he wasn’t married already. Tall, handsome and a soothing voice with a calm face.

“Uh… not exactly” He set out a whispered laugh, scratching the back of his head, “ I have to meet the daughter of one of my associates tonight, I figured I should come prepared.” So he wasn’t married, nice.

“Well, do you have any idea what type of flowers you want? Big or small bouquet? And do you want a message written with it?” You pulled twine and cardstock along with lettering pens from under the counter.

“I know absolutely nothing about flowers, a decent sized bouquet and no message please, I wouldn’t know what to write,” He laughed again, this time bringing his hand to pull at his cuff sleeves. You chuckled at the man’s cluelessness, putting away the pens and cardstock. Even though he looked like a super smooth and suave guy, it was obvious he was oblivious to the world of romantics.

“Well, what kind of a meeting is it? Professional, casual, or maybe even romantic?” You asked, walking around the hydrangeas and closer to the wildflowers before finally reaching the most popular flower, the red roses.

“What kind of flowers are your favorites?” He asked, following you around your small shop, eyeing every type of flower. Surprised by the question, you paused in front of the chrysanthemums.

“I like them all, if I’m being honest. But a bouquet of different types of wildflowers and lavender are my personal favorites. I always have some on display in my living room. Do you have a favorite flower?” You figured making small talk would help hurry his decision along-and maybe come back to your shop again.

“I like that one flower, it grows a lot in America, it uhhh, it almost looks like a daisy but it’s petals are blue and purple and pink” He gave another nervous laugh, whipping out his phone this time before clicking around and unceremoniously shoving the phone into your own hands. A picture of a field, in what you assumed to be America, was on the screen, with beautiful flowers all across it.

“Those look like New England Asters!” You grinned widely, laughing. Moving back over to the wildflowers, you picked up a handful of the colorful flowers, showing them to him proudly. “I even have them in stock!”

“Wow, I didn’t know you could find them in Korea.” He followed you back through the store as you pulled different flowers from bushes and buckets before you made it back to the workbench. You continued to make small talk as you made the bouquet, finishing it much quicker than you expected.

“Here it is!” You held it up with pride, handing it over to him, which he gently took from you, a smile appearing.

“Thank you so much, here, how much do I owe you?” He went to pull out his wallet again, before you raised a hand in an attempt to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun talking to you and I love making bouquets for people who enjoy the work behind it, so consider it on the house. Anything else you need?”

“Um, I know this is gonna sound really weird, but will you come to this meeting with me? As a um, uh, a date?”

“I’m sorry?” You choked, halting all movements to put together the bouquet.

“Well, uhm I was supposed to court the daughter of the associate I’m meeting with tonight, which is why I needed the bouquet, but she’s like 16, and on top of her being way too young, she’s a total brat who’s never been told ‘no’ in her life. So you can see why I want to avoid courting her as much as possible,” the man awkwardly laughed and rubbed the nape of his neck, looking anywhere else but at you. You were shocked by his story, not quite believing that a man would actually marry off his 16 year old daughter to a man who appeared to be in his early twenties. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man’s position, and also happy he wasn’t a creepy pedophile.

“I’ll go with you, but on one condition. Tell me your name.” You smiled, tending to your bouquet once again. The man smiled brightly at your answer and chuckled a bit when he realized he had never told you his name.

“It’s Kim Doyoung. Nice to meet you,” Doyoung looked at the embroidered name on your apron right below your left collarbone, “Y/N. Should I pick you up here around 6?”

“Alright. I will see you at 6 Mr. Kim Doyoung. Doyoung nodded and the two of you spent the next few minutes asking questions about each other and how the meeting tonight would go down. As it turns out, the associate he was meeting tonight was West African and had connections all over the world, and Doyoung was trying to work with him to get some of the connections. He never mentioned what the connections were for though, which you found odd. Most men love to brag about their work experiences, while Doyoung tended to tell little pieces of his experiences. Eventually the bouquet was finished and Doyoung had to leave, something you both regretted-though the thought of seeing him again tonight kept you on your toes with excitement bubbling in your stomach.

The rest of your day was just as mundane as you had expected. Nothing more than a husband with an upset wife at home, a young man on his first date, and a girl - looking for flowers to press - came into the shop. Still, your thoughts were filled with the image of a tall and lanky brunette that was supposed to be here any minute.

5:59, you heard the chime of the front door opening, and walked in the same man from hours earlier. “Are you ready?” He asked, moving to the edge of the counter that you were behind, holding out his hand. “I promise that I will make it as adventurous as possible.” He gave out a chuckle as you timidly took the hand that he had offered.

“I can’t wait to see what a high life you live Mr. Kim.” You joked, as he led you out to his car, waiting for you to lock the door to the shop.

Driving for a while, he ended up in the front of a designer store, something you never even imagined walking into. Exiting the car, he walked to your side and opened the door, once again leading you inside of the brightly lit department store. Immediately, someone had approached the two of you, asking how they could help. Mentioning something about cocktail dresses, she led you farther back into the store and started pulling dresses off of the wall and hanging them on the door of a nearby dressing room.

“Doyoung, what’s going on right now?” You asked, eyes darting between the racks of expensive clothing and the dressing room door.

“Well, you wanted to see the high life,” he laughed “plus, you need to look the part of a senator’s girlfriend, don’t you?” Senator… A SENATOR?!

Suddenly everything started clicking together. The tall lanky brunette who was definitely too sophisticated to be walking into such a small flower shop. Kim. Kim Dongyong. The youngest man in congress, who was also known as the heartthrob of Korea. You were going on a fake date with the man women of all ages were fawning over, regardless of political alignment. What. In. The. Hell.

Zoning back into reality, Doyoung was waving his slender fingers in your face. Once he noticed a bit of sentience regained in them, he dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “I- I uh… I just realized that perhaps you didn’t know who I really was, it’s my fault really, I figured everyone in Seoul had at least a clue of what I looked like. That is a bit egocentric on my part. I understand if you no longer want to be my date for the evening.” His eyes were downcast, hands clasping behind him.

“No, no, no - it’s not that. I was just too slow to put all of the pieces together, and my apologies, I just don’t pay much attention to the news, it makes me sad.” You shook off the air of shock around you, regaining your composure. “Well, I guess I have to look the part to play the part, don’t I?” You laughed, looking behind you as Doyoung went to sit on the couch, ready to see whatever dress you picked out.

Soon, you were leaving that gorgeous marbled store in a new peach dress and white heels, with a clutch to match and your hair and makeup done to the nines. During the time you were being, well, pampered, Doyoung had changed into a smart casual suit with the shirt matching the peach color of your dress. He wore off white slacks and white dress shoes, looking more like a government official than ever before.

“Is there a reason we’re matching?” You asked, looking at Doyoung’s peach shirt and back to your peach cocktail dress. You had to admit, Doyoung looked unbelievably attractive in his suit, and the dress was doing you good as well.

“Don’t we look cute? I’m happy the peach looked good. You ready?” Doyoung asked, holding his arm out for you like a classic gentleman.

“I guess so. Lead the way Mr. Senator.” You grabbed Doyoung’s arm and soon enough, the two of you were in front of a very official dining hall, a sight you could only ever see in pictures on Google prior to 30 seconds ago. Holding onto Doyoung’s left arm, you walked up the steps and into the posh building. ’s grand entrance. You were greeted by a man in a traditional suit, the black blazer and slacks with a white collared shirt and a black tie made men look like penguins-and not very attractive ones. You were silently happy Doyoung hadn’t chosen to wear one.

“Ah, Senator Kim! How lovely to see you tonight. And I see you brought a plus one! Who might she be?” The man shook Doyoung’s hand and before you even had a chance to introduce yourself, Doyoung spoke on your behalf.

“Very nice to see you as well Mr. Jeon. And this lovely lady here is my-”

“Fiance.” You cut Doyoung off before he had the chance to say “girlfriend”. Why? Who knows. But you’re stuck with it-and Doyoung knew it.

“Yes, we just got engaged so forgive my fiance for jumping in. She’s quite excited.” Doyoung’s right hand covered yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, signaling to you that you needed to say something. Or at least, that’s how you perceived it.

“Ah, yes, I’m very sorry for intruding like that. I just adore being able to call myself his fiance, please forgive me.” You gave the Mr. Jeon a sweet smile, hoping your sugary tone of voice was enough for him not to get upset. Unbeknownst to you, however, Doyoung was suppressing the world’s most shit eating grin, knowing you were the one who dug yourselves this massive hole and you were gonna be the one to get yourselves out.

“No worries, how could I be angry at such a wonderful couple? Although, not just two days ago Senator Kim here was one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors. Seems a little fast paced for an engagement, no?”

“We’ve actually known each other for a couple years now, haven’t we dear?” Doyoung dragged out the little nickname, weirdly making your heart flutter a bit. You silently nodded in agreement. Mr. Jeon smiled and Doyoung made an escape attempt.

“Well it was nice seeing you here Mr. Jeon, I do hope to meet again after this. I figured my fiance and I should mingle a little bit, give me a true chance to show her off,” Doyoung smiled and shook the hand of Mr. Jeon before finally walking away with you hanging onto his elbow. You truly had no idea where he was going, but he made a beeline for somewhere and you were stuck following him, muttering hellos and nice to meet yous every time someone would try and speak with you two. Eventually Doyoung’s pace slowed and you found yourself near the back of the room by a couple security guards and a folding table for two. In true gentlemanly fashion, Doyoung pulled out a chair and motioned for you to sit before sitting himself right across from you.

“Fiance? Really? Seems kinda sus for a first date no?” Doyoung laughed, his gummy smile radiating pure sunshine at you from across the table. His tone and vocabulary completely shifted from the proper one he used with his political associates to a nonchalant and friendly one. You smiled back at him, giggling just a bit when Doyoung couldn’t quite stop his laughter.

“I have no clue. But on the brightside, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about girls wanting to court you anymore?” You shrugged your shoulders, signalling that if anyone did try, you weren’t to blame.

“That may very well be, but I can’t help but wonder what the headlines will look like once this news gets out. Maybe ‘Kim Dongyoung Engagement Announcement?’” Doyoung messed with the position of his watch on his left wrist and looked back up at you, seemingly expecting a response.

“You’re not being creative enough Mr. Kim. I bet it’ll be something like ‘Korea Loses its Most Eligible Bachelor Overnight to a Mysterious New Woman’” or something.” You laughed, thinking of many more outrageously dramatic headlines to come within the next 24 hour.

“Hm maybe. Wanna put something to that bet?” Doyoung asked, leaning ever so slightly over the table closer to you.

“Is that a challenge I hear?” You responded, mirroring his movements.

“You win, you become my real girlfriend. I win, you owe me three more dates then you can leave this entire life behind.” Doyoung sounded solemn when offering you an out, but you took this as a chance to be an outrageous flirt.

“Let’s hope I win then. We can’t add an engagement scandal to your name now can we?” You winked at the man in front of you, who only seemed stunned at your words. All you could do was stare into his eyes, an endless ocean of black drawing you further and further in-until Doyoungs phone went off. Awkwardly coughing, Doyoung answered his phone.

“What do you want? Huh? Now? Impeccable timing man. Yeah. I got it. See you at home. Bye.” Doyoung ended the call and huffed out a stressed sigh.

“Home?” You questioned. Doyoung never once mentioned his home in all your conversations together-granted you had only known him for 13 hours. But you were still curious.

“That was my brother, of sorts. Anyways we have to talk to the ambassador from West Africa now, he just arrived. Is my fiance ready?” Doyoung drug out the word fiance as if to flirt and mock you at the same time. You could only roll your eyes and smile. He held out his hand for you to take and led you to a group of officials you could only assume were the West African Ambassador’s party. The ambassador himself was first to acknowledge the two of you.

“Ah Mr. Senator Kim! What a pleasure it is to meet you again, and under much, better, circumstances. I do apologize for the actions of my guards, their aim is just terrible. And who might this lovely young lady on your arm be?” The ambassador spoke, shaking Doyoungs hand and then yours. But the one thing that caught your attention was the stress the Ambassador put on the word ‘better’ and then his mention of his guards’ terrible aim. Did they shoot at Doyoung? Why would a Senator of Korea be shot at by a West African guard? Is there something Doyoung isn’t telling you about?

“This is my fiance, Ms. Y/L/N. I do apologize for the lack of mentions about her, you see not even my staff knew about her until this morning.” Doyoung’s words were short and almost crude, his tone overly nice. It was obvious he didn’t like this man.

“Not a worry Mr. Kim. She’s lovely. You’re a lucky man. My daughter was too shy to come anyways. She’ll be heartbroken, but one can only do so much in the way of a fiance, yeah?” You had a hard time making sense of his words, half due to his heavy accent and half due to the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of Doyoung being shot at.

“I do appreciate the understanding, Ambassador. Now, do you have it?” Doyoung asked, eyeing you as if you were listening in on a conversation you shouldn’t be hearing. You were just thoroughly confused about everything happening. Doyoung could’ve been shot and now he’s cryptically asking for something? There’s definitely more to this Senator than meets the eye.

“Only if you have what I asked for, Mr Kim.” The Ambassador responded, signalling to someone in his party to do something, because the minute the Ambassador’s hand moved, the man nodded and left as if he was on a mission.

“You should find that it’s exactly where you need it. We’re very thankful for this, Ambassador. Should you ever need help in the future, don’t hesitate to ask.” Doyoung shook the Ambassadors hand one more time before returning his arm to your waist, pulling you closer into his side. You were now clueless as to who this “we” was that Doyoung mentioned. Did it have to do with the brother-of-sorts he mentioned earlier? One of the Ambassador’s other men leaned over and whispered something to him, making the Ambassador smile.

“You are all set Mr. Kim. Thank you for the generosity. We will definitely be in contact should we ever need help.” With that, Doyoung smiled and turned on his heels towards the door. You wanted to ask Doyoung so many questions but before you could he pulled out his phone and opened a news app.

“Looks like you won this bet, Ms. Y/L/N. I do look forward to our future together,” Doyoung said as he shoved the phone screen in your face. You had to hold his shaky wrist to stabilize the words enough to read the latest headline “Kim Dongyoung, Korea’s Most Eligible Bachelor, Stolen by Mysterious New Woman".